When a Crockpot Triggered My Trauma

Me vs. Ninja and Babish: The Imagined Battle

I’m going to give you fair warning, my dear Bookenders. It’s about to get real personal today. You’re going to get some insight into the inner workings of my brain, and well, it may be a little unsettling.

Back in the day, this kind of post was called “Laura’s Lounge.” I may have to bring that back. 😎

I invite you to sit back, get comfy, and enjoy this peek into my mind.

When I came home from a road trip a couple of months ago and told my soon-to-be-ex that I wanted a divorce, I really thought I was going to be a rockstar of my emotions.

I mean, one of the core reasons I’m leaving is because of his lack of emotional sobriety. Not mine.

Yet, one Saturday afternoon, I felt like the scales tipped. I had a full-on battle: me versus Ninja and Babish. And I’d never even heard of Babish until that afternoon. But I was ready to throw down.

First, a little background.

After my divorce request, I started making larger meals and freezing them so STBX would have leftovers after I left. He doesn’t cook. The extent of his cooking is scrambled eggs or heating up some Stouffer’s.

I suggested he pick up a simple crockpot. One dial, three choices: High, Low, and Warm. $30.00 at Walmart. Super easy. He’d told me in the past that my crockpot was too complicated (five buttons), so I thought the one with the dial would be an easy solution.

That Saturday, I was in bed with a migraine. Perfect opportunity to try out the crockpot he bought earlier in the week.

I hadn’t seen it yet. He had it in his room.

I asked him to come get me when it was set up, and we’d walk through it together. I went back to bed and watched reality TV. No surprise there. (Side note: Last Resort sucks.)

I hear a lot of activity in the kitchen. Boxes opening, dishes being washed. But he never comes to get me to do the crockpot.

I’m in pain, and it’s also not my responsibility to babysit him or the crockpot.

A few hours later, on my way to the bathroom, I see the crockpot.

Do you remember the scene in Pulp Fiction with the Samsonite briefcase?

That’s what it felt like when I looked at the crockpot. Sitting there in all its golden glory. Even though it’s kinda blue and silver.

A Ninja Pro something or other. Complicated enough that I would need instructions. Sitting next to it, a butcher block of Babish knives, and in the dish drain, a full set of Babish pots and pans.

For a man who hasn’t cooked a meal in over twenty years.

The battle in my head commenced.

Me versus the Ninja and Babish. How much did this nonsense cost?

I looked it up.

Dear Lort!

Are you kidding me with these prices? How dare they charge this much money?

Then my focus shifted.

How dare he!

Why didn’t he listen to me when I suggested the cheap one?

Why did he get a full set of pots and pans when he didn’t cook, and I left him more than enough?

Then my thoughts shifted again.

Why wasn’t I important enough for him to buy that stuff for me when I was living here?

Where’s my value?

Where’s my worth?

Then they shifted one last time.

Why do I care?

I’m leaving.

Why am I still cooking for him?

I’m leaving.

Why am I worried about whether he uses the kitchenware he bought?

I’m leaving.

What was I truly feeling?

Anger. Yes.

Sadness. Yes.

Grief.

Excitement.

Gratitude.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

I realized that those emotions that flared alongside my anger were the echoes of the footprints of trauma in my brain.

I don’t know if they’ll continue to revisit me as I work through the process of this divorce. I imagine they might. And that’s okay because I’m aware they exist.

But the important piece for me in all this was that I didn’t lash out. I didn’t let it rob me of my peace. It didn’t ruin my day, or even an hour.

Instead, I reached out to someone safe. We joked and laughed about it.

And I reminded myself: Not my monkeys. Not my circus.

Let’s Stay Connected

If this resonates with you, I’d really love to know. You can comment below or email me. You’re also invited to join other Bookenders on Reddit.

And if you’re looking for deeper exercises, I wrote Bookends of Recovery & Healing Workbook to help you heal from betrayal trauma and addiction by using creative exercises, action tools, and guided reflection.

Warmly,
Laura 🌻