The self-care of making breakfast

And a recipe for cozy, milky oats

Hi everyone,

Thank you for all the tender comments after last week’s newsletter—your words of encouragement and recommendations for things to do/watch/read/etc. while struggling with depression were a balm. And welcome to all the new subscribers in this little corner of gentle internet goodness. If you’re here just for the cozy, milky oats, scroll down for the recipe.

Lately I’ve been wanting to better show up for myself at breakfast. My current routine is to drink 1.5 mugs of coffee first thing in the morning as I play an hour of Animal Crossing, which I’ve recently started playing again after a three-year hiatus (honestly this essay I wrote three years ago right before I burned out on the game still hits). I don’t get around to eating my first meal of the day until hours later, when I’m starving, around 11 or 12. Then I get grumpy that I waited so long to eat, often reach for things I don’t really want to eat but do anyway to quell my hanger-induced frenzy, and resolve to eat earlier the next day. Rinse, repeat, etc.

The first week of

Cadence Dubus (she/her)

’s and my Nourish Yourself course always starts by asking participants to take a closer look at their breakfast routines—namely, are they eating it? More often than not, the answer is “no” or “sort of.” I’m always surprised to hear that so many others struggle with prioritizing breakfast, even though I guess it’s a rather unsurprising revelation.

For my part, I’ve noticed that on mornings when I offer to cook for both me and Hunzi, I feel inspired to put time and care into making a nice breakfast for the two of us. I’ll often make something we call “Just Eggs” (j’eggs for short), which is eggs scrambled with a medley of sautéed random vegetables (broccoli, onion, peppers, mushrooms, and baby spinach are staples), served with some buttered toast or warm pita, sliced avocado, chopped cucumbers and tomatoes piled atop salted yogurt, or some combo therein. But I notably almost never make j’eggs for j’myself—in fact, on days I’m not cooking breakfast for two, I tend to skip it entirely.

J’eggs.

Why? I found some answers (and comfort, and validation) in