For a long time, my go-to stress mode was restriction. Not just with food, but with everything.
When life felt uncertain, I’d tighten my grip. Shrink my schedule. Shrink my appetite. Shrink myself.
It was a way of controlling what I could. A survival reflex from years of starving out my own needs while serving everyone else’s. The irony is that I built a life feeding others, yet often forgot to feed myself.
Grief made that pattern louder. It’s strange how something can feel heavy and hollow at the same time. The weight of loss. The emptiness of absence. The body trying to find itself again when everything familiar has shifted.
There were days when eating felt like effort, when the idea of preparing a meal was too much. So I began asking myself one simple question:
What sounds good to eat in this moment?
Sometimes the answer was as small as a piece of toast with honey. Other times it was something heartier, like a smoothie that felt almost like a meal.
That’s when I began making what I now call my Solid Ground Shake — a blend of simple ingredients that kept me rooted when I felt unsteady. It became a gentle act of rebellion against the part of me that once counted calories or measured every portion. It was permission to nourish myself first, before stepping into the kitchen to feed anyone else.
It reminded me that nourishment doesn’t have to be elaborate. It just has to be intentional.
Solid Ground Shake
Serves 1
Ingredients
- ½ banana
- 2 tablespoons nut butter of choice
- 1 tablespoon Dutch cocoa powder or cocoa nibs
- ¼ cup unsweetened coconut milk
- Ice (enough to blend to your liking)
- Optional: liquid sweetener of choice (maple syrup, honey, or stevia) ● 1 scoop @goldenrationutrition protein powder (optional but recommended for extra grounding fuel)
Directions Add all ingredients to a blender and blend until smooth and creamy. Adjust sweetness or thickness as desired. Pour into your favorite glass or mug, take a breath, and drink slowly.
This shake became my small act of reclamation — a reminder that feeding myself well doesn’t have to be complicated, only conscious.
Reclaiming the appetite, for me, has meant learning to feed myself again in every sense of the word. Feeding my body. Feeding my heart. Feeding my purpose.
That’s what Soul Nourished is really about. It isn’t just a cookbook. It’s a love letter to
anyone who’s forgotten what it feels like to be well-fed, body and soul. A reminder that you’re allowed to take up space, to savor, to want more, and to receive it without guilt.
So if you find yourself in a season of depletion, start small. Ask your body what it needs, then give it to her. Maybe it’s a warm meal, maybe it’s rest, maybe it’s a conversation that reminds you who you are.
That’s the work. To listen. To feed what’s real.
�� What about you? What are you truly hungry for right now? I’d love to hear what nourishment looks like for you in this season.
�� Soul Nourished is now available for presale — stories, recipes, and rituals to feed your body and your soul.
Jennifer, the line about grief feeling heavy and hollow at the same time.. yes. thats it exactly. I hear this from families constantly. the weight of what happened sitting right next to this emptiness where the person used to be.
the relationship between grief and eating is something that doesnt get enough attention. so many people I work with either stop eating entirely or eat without tasting anything. one woman told me she didnt eat a proper meal for three weeks after her husband died. not because she wasnt hungry but because making food felt like an act of caring for herself and she couldnt access that part of herself anymore.
your solid ground shake idea is brilliant. starting with just one small intentional act of nourishment when everything else feels impossible. thats the kind of practical grief support people actually need. not big dramatic gestures but tiny gentle rebellions against the numbness.
beautiful piece. thank you for writing it.