Sugar Sugar

A fond memory is the weekend our next-door neighbor was playing his stereo on full volume. My son was home, and we decided to even things up a bit. We put on the song "Sugar, Sugar," one of our favorites, as loud as our stereo would go, then opened the doors and windows. For a few minutes, it was a battle of the bands, and we dissolved into fits of giggles. What fun!

Recently, however, sugar has become no fun for me. After 2 years of being symptomatic, I finally sought medical help about 15 months ago for the physical issues I could not longer cope with; the diagnosis of Diabetes II confirmed that sugar is my enemy. I've worked hard to control the disease with diet and exercise, and both the doctor and I have been pleased with my progress.

However, emotional stress continues to send me into a sugar frenzy, often without conscious knowledge that I am ingesting that particular form of personal poison. Since the Diabetes II went into over-drive, I’ve been so careful not to keep sugar products in the house as I don’t have endless amounts of self-control. When it comes to will power, I will, but when it comes to won’t power, I often will, when I know I should won’t.

Some family news sent me into foraging mode about 4 weeks ago, accompanied by debilitating headaches, the extreme “swimming” dizziness, lethargy, blurry vision, and crankiness. I couldn’t figure out what the heck was wrong until I had an awakening one early afternoon last week and literally saw myself dunking a left-over holiday cookie into my cup of hot coffee. Had you asked me if I was bingeing on sugar, I would have told you “no” because I had no awareness of it.

Alcoholics drink, smokers smoke, drug addicts snort, smoke or shoot, over-eaters gorge, and I mainline sugar, my drug of choice.

Since my moment of lucidity, I have had to work diligently to remove the sugar from my intake process—again. It was a challenge the first time, but more difficult this time because it’s a do-over. The old saying, “There’s never time to do it right, but there’s always time to do it over” comes to mind.

When I stopped smoking decades ago, I went from 2 packs a day to not smoking, and I know that all it would take is one cigarette for me to become a smoker again. Therefore, I don’t buy cigarettes. However, when it’s food, I have decades of food choice patterns that are on auto pilot: I stroll the aisles, pick up the items, check out, take the sacks from the car into the pantry, put the groceries away—and don’t pay attention to what’s there until I stress out. That’s when I go searching for anything that can feed the need for sugar to make me feel better. Because I’m still buying cake mixes, boxes of brownie mix, and the staples of sugar, white flour, and bread on auto-pilot, when I stress out, my drugs are right there in the cabinets. I love cooking, which also soothes me when I’m stressed, so the potential for falling off the wagon to make myself feel better is high.

After 3 weeks of all sugar all the time, packing on the pounds (again), and feeling downright awful, I’m clean, feeling better, and determined not to go there/do that again. One day at a time, dear Lord, one day at a time.