Regarding Cupcakes (and Crazy)
Today’s piece of advice:
Don’t run from the cupcake if the cupcake’s not hurting you.
Don’t run from the cupcake if the cupcake’s not hurting you, even if you’re in pain. Don’t run from the cupcake because the thing that’s hurting you tells you the cupcake’s responsible. Don’t let the cavity claim the problem is sweets. Sometimes the Hurt or the Crazy or whatever it is that nests in your brain and fucks up your happiness will tell you the cupcake is hurting you. (Sometimes the part of you that protects you, and your happiness, will tell you this also. In those cases you’ll need to listen. So practice listening now. Learn to tell the difference.) Sometimes the part of you that is Hurt or Crazy will say this, right here, this cupcake that is not fucking up your happiness, is totally hurting you. And what you need to do is run. Run to numb, run to crazy, run to self-destruction. Whatever your particular brain nester recommends. Your brain nester will claim it’s the cure. It’s not. It’s the problem. Tell it to fuck off.
Don’t talk yourself out of the cupcake. It’s delicious. It’s fresh and warm and just the right texture. The gremlins that nest in your brain will tell you to stay away from that cupcake. They’ll tell you that your desire for the cupcake is wrong. They’ll remind you of all the cravings you’ve had in the past and all the terrible, mass-produced sweets you’ve eaten, trying to satiate them. They’ll remind you of all the times you’ve fallen asleep with your mouth watering and your stomach empty. They’ll tell you stories about why that happened, — claim you’ve gone hungry because your hunger is wrong, craved because you don’t deserve. They will tell you you’ve grown stronger by conquering your taste for these things.
And meanwhile, the cupcake will be there, smelling of home.
Resisting it will not make you stronger. It will just make you go without.
Resisting it will not protect you against all future wants. It will just make those wants harder to recognize and act on in the future.
And telling yourself stories about why this cupcake hasn’t been an option will only keep you from savoring it. So sit there with your cupcake, dammit. Feel your hunger. Feel all the hunger you have pushed away. Feel the going without. Hate how long it’s been. Love that something has finally changed.
Pick it up. Feel the soft roughness of the cake against your fingers. The crumbs giving way. Breathe in the aroma.
Bite in. Savor it.
Have some more.