Hey, I’m Mary, I was a rockstar chef, known for my culinary wizardry. Life was delicious until my early thirties when I started hanging out with some friends who had a penchant for partying.

Before I knew it, I was bar-hopping like it was an Olympic sport. Four times a week, you’d find me at the local pub, sipping away my problems. I was dancing on the edge of disaster, and I didn’t even realize it.

Then, one day, my body decided it had had enough of this nonsense. I started getting these terrifying tremors – a horrifying consequence of my heavy drinking. It was like my body was screaming at me, “Wake up!”. I went to the doctor only to find out that I had Neuropathy, which means alcohol was killing my nerves.

That’s when I decided to make a U-turn on this crazy highway to self-destruction. I packed my bags, kissed my job goodbye, and headed out of town. My destination? Another town, another life.

 I embarked on a journey that would change my life. I dove headfirst into rehab practices, and started doing meditation, and guess what? It was like hitting a reset button for my soul. Through quiet contemplation, I began to regain control over my emotions, something I hadn’t felt in ages. At first it was harsh.

But here’s the twist in my tale – it wasn’t just my life scare that brought me peace. It was my other love: cooking. In that tranquil setting, I discovered a unique blend of mindfulness, mixing the art of cooking with meditation. Each dish I created became a masterpiece of my emotions and newfound clarity.

As I stirred pots and simmered flavors, I began to find my way back to myself. I traded my drinking glass for a chef’s knife, and the kitchen became my sanctuary.

When I finally returned to the culinary world back to the home town, I wasn’t just a master chef anymore. I was a warrior, an advocate for mental health, and a symbol of transformation. My dishes didn’t just tantalize the taste buds; they carried a message of hope and healing. All my bar friends disappeared, some were fired others moved along.

So, here I am, still cooking up a storm, but now with a side of mindfulness and a generous helping of inner peace. I’ve gone from the depths of addiction to the heights of advocacy, showing the world that you can conquer your demons and come out stronger and wiser on the other side. My early 30s felt like a lifetime of lessons.