“How do I make my life feel the way watching an episode of The Barefoot Contessa makes me feel?”

That was the question.

It was December 2019. A Sunday night. The scaries in full bloom.

I’d been teaching for 12 years at this point. And I was miserable.

That Friday night, I’d changed into my pajamas for bed and didn’t take them off again until I ran the bath on Sunday afternoon, right before sunset.

I listened to Paul McCartney sing about how it was just another day and brushed my teeth. I lit the candles around the tub and turned on both taps. I poured in the Lavender Dr. Teal’s bubble bath and the rose scented bath salts. I turned off the lights and sunk into the water.

I cried.

Leaning back against the porcelain, surrounded by bubbles and scents and steam rising off the water, I sobbed.

Teaching was cement around my ankles. But how would I pay my bills if I wasn’t a teacher? What would I DO if I wasn’t a teacher?

I had ideas. I always wanted to be a writer, but that dream felt so pie in the sky. I didn’t know what it meant to be a writer, a fantasy so distant it could have been a Disney movie for as unreal as it seemed.

I knew something had to change, but I didn’t know how to change it, and so I was stuck.

When the tears dried, I opened my phone to YouTube and an old episode of The Barefoot Contessa was in the list of “Videos You Might Like.”

It was from Season 1.

I remember catching the show on The Food Network as a kid and thinking the host was named Contessa. But that was the extent of my experience with Ina until that moment in the tub.

The theme music played, and there was Ina participating in a variety of activities, picking herbs from her garden, walking up from the beach to her house in the Hamptons, clinking glasses with her friends at an afternoon party.

Warm images filled the tiny phone screen as the opening credits transitioned to the actual show. Ina was going to be roasting a chicken for her husband, Jeffrey, his Friday night favorite. And there was a clambake on the beach to prepare for. And no good dinner can be concluded without a sweet treat.

For the moment, at least, my Sunday scaries abated.

After the 20 minute episode, I had an Ina sized itch that needed to be scratched. I inhaled more episodes of the show on YouTube.

Once out of the tub, pruned and soft skinned, I downloaded season three and watched as Ina baked and laughed and asked me, her audience, “How easy is that?”

If only life could be as easy as Ina made it feel.

I know Barefoot Contessa is a television show curated for viewers, but Ina’s life on the screen seemed cozy and warm and slow. Words that, up until that moment, I would and could never have used to describe my life.

Teaching was hard. Everyday was fast. You never knew what you were going to be faced with. And I longed for someone to pull me out of the game. To let me slow down, instead of drowning under the weight of lesson plans, grading, and the emotional upheavals that I encountered daily via my students or coworkers.

But with Ina, I roasted chickens, infusing the house with rosemary and thyme and lemon. I made soup and baked cakes and sipped pomegranate gimlets.

I bought her cookbooks and read them cover to cover like a novel. I got excited about learning new recipes that filled the house with that same sensation I had that first night Ina and I truly met in December.

March 2020. Covid. The pandemic shut the world down.

I got the call on March 13th that school would be closed for two weeks. That two weeks became indefinitely.

And that indefinite closing became an opportunity.

At this point, I had been listening to Ina Garten interviews on YouTube while I cooked. And the refrain that resonated was, “You have to jump into the pond and swim around a little to see what you like.”

Finally, I had the time to do that.

And it started with a writing class.

I found Ina at a time when I saw no way out of my depression and anxiety. She elicited within me a feeling that I wanted to chase. That I wanted to hold on to.

Up until that point, and maybe a while beyond, I never felt like I had control over my life. Decisions were made in service of paying bills. Dreams were things you envisioned but never pursued. And I believed that everyone was wracked with debilitating anxiety about their jobs.

To my great surprise, those beliefs and choices I held onto so acutely, were not only untrue but were holding me back from living.

Thank you, Ina, for inspiring me to jump into the pond.

How has my life changed? How did I pursue a career in writing?

Find out in next Saturday’s blog.