Sugar: When a Little Isn't Enough

Within a few days, my last post, Cranky & Irritable, soared to being the #1 most read blog entry since I started writing in August. Besides the public comments, I received lots of private emails from people who are feeling the same way for a variety of reasons and a few phone calls from concerned and loving friends. Occasionally, many stressors come together in life to create an untenable situation and that just happens to be the situation for me right now.  I am resilient, and there are supporters in my corner, in all my corners, actually. The things that are causing me angst are solvable, and looked at another way, provide me with writing fodder for the future.

My funny best friend, who is feeling about as crummy as I said, “I would suggest shopping as an antidote, but that's off the list. Okay, how about a night at the casino? No? Well, then - a cookie? No you say? Well, I'm all out of ‘things to do to make me feel better.’”  She then decided I am vice-less.

Some writers suggested that craving sugar means my body needs something and that it should be listened to. In one sense, they are correct. When humans are stressed, our bodies crave carbohydrates. That’s because stress breaks down serotonin, the neurotransmitter in our brains that regulates sleep and calms nerves, among other things. Carbohydrates, of which sugar is one, trigger the body to release insulin, which in turn provokes the brain to produce more serotonin. Many anti-depressants target serotonin production.

In addition, human beings are born liking sweet. It’s one of the only foods (I use that term loosely) for which we do not have to acquire a taste, as we do with salt and bitter. One theory behind that has to do with keeping early humans alive – sweet yearnings drove us to eat fruit, which our bodies needed for optimal nutrition.¹ There are other theories as well – you can google them if you are interested.

However, it is also the case that most of us in western societies are truly addicted to refined white sugar.  Most of us just aren't aware of it. It is in almost everything we eat, in varying amounts (mostly large), in one form or another (I learned there are over 50 forms of sugar.)  Most of us eat enough of it to keep the addiction fueled, or if we start to feel irritable, we solve the problem with a little more. It starts with breakfast.  I know how much sugar I put in MY coffee to make it palatable. There is sugar in my Kashi Heart to Heart cereal. There is sugar in the soup I eat at lunch, and in the yogurt I believe is good for me. It is, after all, low fat. It’s in the ‘reduced fat’ dressing I use, albeit sparingly, on my salad at night and in the dried cranberries I sprinkle, also sparingly on that salad.

Refined sugar is an addictive substance. In separate studies conducted with rats, Lenoir, Serre, Cantin, and Ahmed, S.H. (2007) ² and Avena, Rada, and Hoebel (2008) ³ found that once conditioned to ingesting sugar, the rats in Lenoir et al.’s study preferred sugar to cocaine, and in both studies, rats exhibited signs of withdrawal, similar to opiate withdrawal, when sugar was withheld.  Sugar is refined from sugar cane, and in the refining process, anything of nutritional value is removed. We do not need sugar except to feed an addiction to it.

Like many ‘good’ girls who think we are in control, I blame myself for this addiction. If I hadn’t been so skinny all my life that it didn’t seem to matter what I put in my mouth. If I hadn’t walked to the corner market with my girlfriend every day after school in 10^th grade to stock up on Hostess cherry pies, fudgesicles, and fireballs to eat while watching Dark Shadows. If I hadn’t fallen in love with the taste of Hawaiian punch at 11 and drank it like water.  If only mom’s cookies hadn’t been so irresistibly yummy. If I didn’t think of ice cream as a major food group, supporting the rest of the food pyramid. If if if…. It’s all my fault on some days.   

One of the reasons I can't take the "give your body what it craves" advice is the issue of moderation. If I could feed my soul with one of something, it might be workable. However, I’ve learned that one (or a little) is simply insufficient. Last week at an event at work, for which there were boxed lunches, I studied the black and white cookie, wrapped in cellophane in my box. For the non-NY-ers, black and white cookies (featured in the photo at the top), are gigantic, about five inches in diameter. They are also thick and are a staple of every NYC deli and bakery. Truthfully, I don’t really like them all that much – they would not make it to my Top 10 craved desserts by a long-shot. But, if in a moment of satisfying a sweet craving, I take one bite, I will consume the whole thing. There is no saving the other half for later. It’s more like w-t-f, I might as well eat it and get it out of the way.  In the moment of studying that cookie, looking soft and delicious in its cellophane, I seriously considered tearing open the wrapping with the defense, “It was in my lunch” as if that would remove any personal responsibility.  However, I also seriously considered that this was one of those moments that I could do the normal and customary OR I could try something different. I decided to try something different, hard as it might be. I gave the cookie away.

At the end of the week, there was another event for which lunch was served. I had already consumed my soup and yogurt by the time I realized that a lunch table had been set up outside the classroom where the event took place. As I walked by, I noted that there was a tray of homemade chocolate chip cookies and brownies. I know those cookies well. There have been times that I have eaten four of them consecutively. My fingers itched and my mouth watered at the thought. I walked faster. I made it down the hall, where I sought refuge in the office of an in-the-same-boat colleague and friend. “I walked by those cookies in the hall and didn’t take one,” I reported. He looked at me guiltily, his eyes telling me the truth before his mouth did.

Ultimately, I (and others) may ‘need’ sugar because we’re so stressed and sleep deprived, and thus need the rush of serotonin that will be produced by consuming as much as possible/available. But solving those problems by ingesting sugar, I’ve decided, is not the way I want to go. I want to be kinder to my teeth and my pancreas. And for the rest of the things causing temporary angst, I will get farther opening my mouth for talking about them only.

¹ Contento, I.O. (2011). Nutrition education: Linking theory, research and practice. Studbury, MA: Jones and Bartlet Publishing.

² Lenoir, M., Serre, F., Cantin, L. & Ahmed, S.H. (2007). Intense Sweetness Surpasses Cocaine Reward. PLoS ONE 2(8): e698. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0000698

³ Avena. N.M., Rada, P., & Hoebel B.G. (2008). Evidence for sugar addiction: Behavioral and neurochemical effects of intermittent, excessive sugar intake. Neuroscience Biobehavioral Review, 32, 20-39.

I'm late! I'm late! For a Very Important Date!

"I'm late! I'm late! For a very important date! I'm late! I'm late! I'm late!" So panicked the White Rabbit of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland.  WR and I have a lot in common at this moment.

I have been trying to write an entry for this blog since last Friday. It’s Wednesday morning. Not much has interfered with my disciplined effort to produce on a weekly basis, but this time, a multitude of obligations have come between me and myself.

Right now, I need to get to the post office to mail a box of Christmas cut-out-frosted-decorated cookies to my aunt and uncle in Florida and they need to arrive by Friday. These are my mom’s cookies – the ones that take oh-so-much time to make, but are oh-so-worth-the-effort. My aunt and uncle are 90 and 91, respectively and I have done this for them since the time my mom couldn’t do it any longer. Their exclamations of joy and appreciation make the time and effort entirely worth it. However, I should have been at the post office when it opened – or so I believe. The reason I am not is that I have my sweet brother in residence for the holidays. He has two speeds, slow and slower (although my daughter maintains the speeds are slow and stopped). We must get through a shower, a shave, a brushing of the teeth, and the donning of clothing – all of which are meticulously completed, after which he will likely proudly announce, “See? I fast!” I take a deep breath and try to find something else to do while I am waiting that’s equally as important (like writing this).

When did the time of Advent become a race to the finish line? Someone I know has been posting daily “antidotes” to the stress of the holidays on her blog since December 1. Most of the antidotes involve, simplistically summarized (and I do mean “simplistic” because her writing is at once elegant and thought-provoking), recognition of and connection with what is real. 

I can’t recall a year when I have been so torn between values and tradition, must-do’s and want-to-do’s. Much of it, I am sure, is simply a result of conflicting time frames. Every time I had to make a choice between something I wanted to do vs. what was due for some class, well – you know what I did. Consequently, for the first time since the early 1970s, my Christmas tree remained in the closet until December 19. It’s usually up the weekend after Thanksgiving because ordinarily, it probably gives me more pleasure than anything else associated with this holiday. Getting the tree out and up this year happened solely because of the brother-in-residence phenomenon….otherwise, this would likely have been the year that Christmas barely happened.  My beloved Christmas village remains boxed. Only about a third of my massive collection of ornaments dangles from tree limbs. There are no lights on the porch, no Christmas dishes to eat on, no poinsettia or wreath…. I am feeling a little like a Christmas failure.  

While I listen to the whir of my brother’s shaver and tell myself that express mail is a miracle, I cling to the moments during this season of theoretical joy when I have felt real and connected, and wasn’t thinking about what I needed to do next. In no particular order, they are:

• The family Christmas party at my brother’s group home. After four years, I’ve come to know and appreciate his housemates and their families, and to cherish the dedicated and kind staff. All but two of the staff members made it to Saturday’s party. One former housemate returned. Two former staff members showed up. The eager, “Are you here for our party?” from the verbal housemates, the dishes of food we all contributed, the easy conversation that comes from years of shared concern and strategizing, and the excitement with which my brother’s housemates tackled their Christmas presents – that was real and it was fun.
• Ninety minutes with two good friends, a mother and daughter whom I’ve known since I was in my teens. We three once worked together in a restaurant in my hometown. I don’t get to see them very often as we live 350 miles apart, and when I am in their vicinity, I am usually attending to my brother. I knew from the younger of them that Saturday would be their cookie decorating marathon, and so when the gift of time presented itself, I took the chance and dropped in. No advance phone call needed. I knew I would be welcome. Besides the delicious opportunity to sample their cookies, the love and laughter that flows between us when we get an opportunity to catch up and just be with each other is affirming. They ask nothing of me, except to show up when I can. And when I can’t, they understand.
• Two hour+ phone conversations with my sweet daughter about our changing perceptions of holiday celebrations and what’s important to each of us. It is sometimes painful as we slog through this together… but it’s real and it’s honest.
• The half-mile walk at night from the train station to my home amid all the Christmas lights that adorn the trees, shrubs, and walk-ways of the various apartment buildings. The lights of Christmas have always soothed me. Light is important. Color almost equally so.

As I formulate my plans for future holiday celebrations, I will revisit these moments. The effort to determine what needs to remain and what needs to change will require that.  At the moment, my sweet tortoise brother has just proclaimed, “See? I fast.”