I’m baking a cake as I’m typing this post. Well, actually, the oven is baking it. I mixed it up and put it in the oven a half hour ago. It’s a birthday cake. But not for me.
I enjoy baking. It’s something that satisfies my need to be creative. I enjoy gathering the ingredients, modifying the recipe when I realize I don’t have the right stuff, and putting the finishing touches on when it comes out of the oven.
This cake is a chocolate Bundt cake with peppermint patties and mint chocolate chips in it. I couldn’t find the recipe, so I went by memory. A cup of sour cream seemed right, some eggs, a bit of oil. Yes, it was a cake mix along with instant chocolate pudding. I typically bake from scratch, but this worked. It’s not a bit healthy and I guess it doesn’t really have to be. It’s a cake. It smells good. I remember what it tasted like when I ate some a few years ago. And that’s enough for me. There’s an eat in creative and that’s where I’ll leave it.
That’s not how it’s always been, though. When I was under the influence of sugar, I would make the cake and snitch some of the peppermint patties and chocolate chips before they went in the batter. If some of the cake stuck to the pan, it was a good way to get the first taste. I’d serve the cake and then put the leftovers away. But more often than not, they’d go away in me. A little at a time. Or maybe a big hunk at a time. Often in secret. With whipped cream or ice cream or not.
I enjoyed eating cake up to a point. But then it was as if I were compelled to eat. it. all. Even if I really wasn’t hungry. Even if I was really full. There was something about the end of a bite that called for more. Maureen. I didn’t really know it at the time (I suspected it sometimes) that I was feeding an addiction. The next bite was the next hit to keep a sugar high.
And then there would be a crash. I remember falling asleep on the couch and waking up not knowing how long I’d been there. Just aware that I felt lousy and usually had a pain in my neck.
It didn’t have to be cake for a sugar high. Just something with sugar. Something sweet. Or plain old carbohydrates that turn to sugar. It sounds ridiculous to me, even now, but I was like an alcoholic with sugar. I am like an alcoholic, with sugar.
When I’m under the influence of sugar, my impulse controls are impaired, I lose mental clarity, and I don’t stop eating. It’s not like I have absolutely no self control, but eventually, it wears thin (and I start eating like I want to be fat). I could ruin a diet in less time than it takes people to switch car insurance companies!
I’ve come a long ways since I happened on a book that described my sugar addiction so perfectly, I was stunned into paying attention to it. My recovery started cold turkey just before Thanksgiving in 2011. I started blogging in 2012 to record how I was feeling as I worked my recovery. I will always have to be careful with sugar, but in being Aware of it and Accepting that it just is (fair or not), I’ve been able to Adapt to live well in spite of being a sugar addict. It’s my AAA for planning and emergencies, including occasional crashes.
So. Let them eat cake. They can. I won’t. I don’t want what goes with it. Impossible? No. I’m Possible. Without sugar.