Why Baking Is My Kind of Therapy (and How It Can Be Yours Too)

There have been times in my life when the world felt heavy - when words wouldn’t come easily and emotions remained unspoken. I grew up in a home where “I love you” wasn’t something people said out loud. So, as I got older, I learned to speak love in a different language - through baking. Cooking and baking became my way of saying what my voice couldn’t: I care about you.

"Even when words fail, baking speaks. it has a way of bringing people back together.”

Of course, baking isn’t always about comfort - sometimes, it’s my way of expressing what I can’t quite say. For example, when my husband and I have had an argument, I will bake or cook something I know he doesn’t like! But he’ll taste it and compliment it anyway - it is his quiet way of saying sorry. Just like that, the tension melts away and we find our way back to each other.

There’s something sensory about working with your hands - measuring, mixing, kneading. When I bake with yeast, especially, it feels like a kind of therapy. At first, it’s just about keeping busy, keeping my mind occupied. But as I mix the flour, water, and yeast, something begins to shift. With each fold, each knead, the tension eases a little. My breathing finds its rhythm with the kneading, and slowly, my body begins to find calm.

And then, shaping the dough, letting it rest, waiting for it to grow; it’s a small act of control in a world that sometimes feels chaotic. When I finally take that freshly baked loaf from the oven, I’m reminded that even anxiety and anger can be transformed - with a little patience, a little care - into something warm, nourishing, and delicious. Over time, baking has turned into my therapy to get rid of the darkness of the past.

“I made a promise to myself that no matter what, I would always bake my child a birthday cake. It was a small act of healing, a way to create sweetness where there once was pain.”

For a long time, my relationship with baking was complicated. Growing up on a farm, making bread was one of my many chores. It was something I both loved and hated in equal measure. (I talk about this more in my new book, Be Free.)

But everything changed when I became a mum. There were so many birthdays in my own childhood that went by uncelebrated, tarnished by memories that were traumatic. So, I made a promise to myself - that no matter what, I would always bake my child a birthday cake. It didn’t have to be perfect or pretty. What mattered was the love that went into it.

Those early cakes were far from polished, but they were baked with love. Each one was a small act of healing and a gift of joy I could finally give. Baking became my way of reclaiming happiness, of creating sweetness where there once was pain.

How Baking Helped Me Find Joy Again

For much of my childhood, baking was hard work and never rewarded. But somewhere along the way, as I grew older, I started to rediscover baking not as a chore, but as something to love. It became my space to breathe, to slow down, and to focus on something simple yet meaningful.

To bake a good loaf of bread, you need patience, resilience, and focus - qualities that can help us in life as well as the kitchen. When I bake, I can’t rush, I have to focus. There’s a beginning, a middle, and if it all goes correctly, a happy ending!

In a world that often feels unpredictable, there’s something comforting about knowing that if you follow the steps carefully, something beautiful will happen.

For me, baking became a way to refocus when life felt chaotic. Measuring ingredients, kneading the dough, waiting for the bread to rise - it all offers a rhythm that soothes my mind. It’s a reminder that progress doesn’t need to be fast. Sometimes, the best things take time to grow.

Baking is therapy because it engages every part of you. It’s a sensory experience that grounds you in the present moment and invites creativity and care. If you watched my bakes on The Great British Bake Off, you might have noticed that every one of them was inspired by love for my family. Whether you’re kneading bread or decorating a cake, you’re creating something to share. And in that simple act - offering a slice of sweetness to someone you love - there’s an immense kind of joy.

"A failed bake isn’t the end — it’s just another chance to rise again.”

When a bake goes wrong, it can feel frustrating, but if you look closer there’s always a lesson, much like in life. Baking is full of imperfect moments that can teach us patience and resilience. When something goes wrong in life, our instinct is to rush to fix it immediately. But rushing rarely helps. Sometimes the best thing you can do is stop, breathe, step back, and try again.

No-one is born knowing how to bake the perfect loaf or live the perfect life. We all learn by trying, failing, and trying again.

A perfect bake doesn’t have to look like Paul Hollywood’s showstopper. Even if it’s a little cracked or uneven, it can still be delicious - and the people you share it with will still love it.

And for anyone who says, “I can’t bake,” or “I’m not good at it,” let me tell you something - if I can bake, you can too! You don’t have to start big. Begin with something simple that makes you smile. Bake biscuits with your children, your friends, or just for yourself. 

What Baking Taught Me About Myself

Baking has taught me so much about who I am - especially during my time on The Great British Bake Off. I think that’s where I truly began to bloom. Before that experience, I never really saw myself as anyone special, and I still don’t think I am. I’m just an ordinary woman who has been through hardships, like so many others.

Being in the Bake Off tent reminded me of something important: to appreciate myself and to believe in what I can do.

That experience taught me that things don’t have to be perfect to be beautiful or meaningful. And most of all, it reminded me that I am loved - by my family, my friends, and by people who connected with my story. For that, I am endlessly grateful.