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.

The (Reduced) Sugar Trial.... Just Don't-Just Don't-Just Don't

This has been a really, really hard week.

Back at work on Monday, there is candy all over the place. Everyone seems to be bringing in their gifts from home and I can appreciate that strategy. Beautiful boxes with individually decorated pieces and assorted other chocolates sit on the long, low file cabinet in our office suite where goodies tend to gather. All day long I take the route in and out of our suite that bypasses this cabinet.  All day long I say to myself, Just don’t-Just don’t-Just don’t.  All day long I feel anxious and blue. Mid-way through the afternoon, I send an emergency email to my daughter. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of chocolate around here. I’m having a really hard time.” She emails me back, “Me too. Candy all over the place here too, including jelly beans.” I groan. That would be worse. I could eat jelly beans by the million. I haven’t touched one in about two years. I know better.

Tuesday is more of the same. I wander over to my colleague, A’s office, and whine a little about all the candy. He looks at me sheepishly, “I know,” he says, “I had one piece.”  I admire his will power. Another colleague, M, tells me she’s been bypassing the candy-laden cabinet too. She’s trying to stick to my not-a-vow-but-a-tentative-plan-to-deal-with-my-sugar-addiction. Misery loves company.

I am still suffering on Wednesday. A carton of dark chocolate truffles cast under my desk catches my eye. I had forgotten it was there. I had not taken this gift home with me before Christmas because I knew its fate. The carton is tightly sealed. Several times during the day, I pick up the carton and fondle it. About the fourth time, my finger toys with the edge of the seal. I almost let it slip underneath, almost release the heavenly scent of dark, cocoa-covered chocolates, almost set myself up to eat every one just to get them out of the way. A voice from somewhere in my head appeals, “Just don’t-Just don’t-Just don’t.” I put the carton down. I walk the hall to the water cooler, fill my water bottle and drink drink drink. I tell myself there is only an hour left in the work day to endure.   

Thursday is a better day. I take a little plastic dish of raw baby carrots and another of hummus to work with me, along with my lunch. Perhaps if I keep myself more comfortably full during the day, it will be easier. I am usually ravenous by lunch time and my typical soup and yogurt just doesn’t always satisfy me.  I munch on the carrots in the mid-afternoon and ignore the chocolate underneath my desk. The chocolate on the file cabinet, thankfully, is gone.

A dear friend of thirty-five years sends me a precious gift via email. After reading my last blog entry [See The Route to Resolution-Just for Today, 12/31/10] she reveals to me, among other things, her life-long addiction to sweets and how she finally, finally addressed it. I share it with her permission. “I knew,” she writes, “if I said I could never have ice cream again, I would crack up or kill myself. So I said to myself, you may have ice cream any time you want. All you have to do is get in the car, go to Ben and Jerry's, and get one scoop.  Then you must come home.  Come into the house.  Hang up your coat.  Do some little chore.  If you still want another scoop you MAY have one.  Just get your coat on, get the car out, go back to the ice cream shop, get one scoop, and come home. Amazing results.”  

I very nearly cry as I read her words, I am so overwhelmed. My friend has been fighting cancer. She continues, “Of course, cancer has changed this problem, too.  I crave chocolate, because of serotonin, not the taste.  So I ration my chocolate.  Otherwise I do not care if I eat or not. Ice cream can sit in my freezer now and I sometimes end up throwing it out because it has formed crystals.  Hurts my depression-baby soul, but what is the alternative?” There is more. She writes me about her nail-biting and her shopping habit too, and I feel 100% understood. I am almost breathless at her generosity as my eyes, my brain and my emotions take in her words – over and over again.

Nights are slightly less difficult but only because they are short. Between a dance class, the gym, a client, and an appointment for an eye exam, I get home late almost every evening. I have no candy, cookies, other baked goods, or soda in my house by design. However, there are two almost-full half-gallons of ice cream in my freezer, the result of a weak, hungry moment and a sale at the supermarket over the holidays.  Between them, the two half-gallons feature coffee, chocolate, caramel and nuts. Similar to my friend, ice cream is a food group I doubt I could live without. 

   

I have been making salads nightly for dinner. Large filling salads with yummy but not bad-for-you items – assorted greens, tomatoes, cucumbers, avocado, raw mushrooms, artichoke hearts, black olives, cauliflower – that are delicious, but they are not ice cream. Ice cream has been my evening struggle.

On Tuesday night, my friend’s strategy for ice cream consumption floats to conscious awareness as I contemplate my freezer contents. I decide out of nowhere that I will allow myself two teaspoons of ice cream a night. Only two. This means I have to pay attention so I don’t miss the event. It seems to work. I stop after two and put the ice cream away. I only feel a little deprived.

On Thursday night, when I think one more wouldn’t hurt, I tell myself that if I give in to the craving now, I’m going to have to start this all over again. I believe the anonymous responder [see Comments from The Route to Resolution, 12/31/10] that eventually I won’t be drawn to sweets if I can just get over this hump. Sometimes repetition is comforting but not in this instance. I know for certain that I do not want to have first-week-resisting-sugar experiences more than once.