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.