I bought this cupcake for myself yesterday.  I was feeling really down and thought I need some chocolate (and sugar and buttercream) to help me feel better.

Except, then I opened up the cute little box and couldn’t eat it. Nope. Nada. I wasn’t going to touch it.

Maybe it’s my recovering alcoholic brain,  but I could not make myself eat chocolate as a method of self soothing. Recovery has taught me many things, and it would seem that the worse I feel the more I will reject “fixers”. Alcohol and drugs (even most prescription) are automatically off the table for me in times of trouble (and all other times too), but so is chocolate it would seem.  It’s not like I consciously say, “I shouldn’t have any because it’s a crutch, and crutches and my brain chemistry do not mix well.”, it’s like my whole body recoils subconsciously and I’m left staring into a cute little cupcake box.

The good news is I had pulled myself together by this morning and had no trouble devouring the cupcake with my morning coffee.

Life lesson?  Profound philosophical musings?  I got nothing tonight.  I’ll be profound tomorrow. … I hope.