An Honest Conversation: On addiction, shame, and designing a life with fewer triggers
I was maybe eight years old, standing on the kitchen counter, reaching for the powdered sugar container. I filled a glass, snuck it up to my bedroom, and sat in the corner of my closet with a spoon. I blinked, and it was gone. I didn’t have the vocabulary for it then. But I was living addiction.
This isn’t easy to write. But I know I’m not alone – and honestly, that’s the whole reason to say it out loud.
How It Starts (Earlier Than You Think)
I grew up in a house where junk food wasn’t really a thing. No sugary cereal, rare desserts, no candy just sitting around. Part financial, part health-conscious – though no one ever explained the why behind it. We just didn’t have it.
That scarcity made the moments I did have access to sugar feel electric. In college, the campus cafeteria had unlimited fountain soda and juice – and I treated it like a mainline. No one was watching. No reason to stop.
After college, I went to Overeaters Anonymous. That’s when it clicked: this wasn’t really an overeating problem. It was a sugar problem. The bingeing always happened in private. There was nothing pleasurable about it – just a fleeting dopamine hit followed by shame, and a feeling of total powerlessness.
Dopamine is a reward response designed for survival. It just happens to light up the same parts of the brain as certain drugs – and sugar. Some of us react more strongly than others.
The Environment Problem
Here’s what I wish someone had said to me when I was young: the environment matters enormously.
Early on, we didn’t have money for junk food – which, accidentally, was protective. But no one connected those dots for me. No one said: here’s why we eat this way, here’s what sugar actually does, here’s how to think about the choices you’ll face.
Instead I got: “eat a balanced diet.” Your plate should look like this plate with colored sections. No specifics. No context. No tools.
Now I see too many examples – full-size candy bars getting handed to six-year-old soccer players – with a soda – as a reward for practice. Or parents who park their kids in front of my shop on Halloween and tell them to choose a ‘few things from their candy bag’ for their ‘dinner’. I think about how those associations form. How early. How quietly. I’m not trying to be judgemental, I’m just observing and reflecting. It’s soul crushing.
When you soothe and reward children with sugar, there are consequences. I lived them.
What Actually Helps Me
I’ve tried willpower. It doesn’t work – at least not as a long-term strategy. What has worked is designing my life so that the temptation is reduced before I ever have to make a decision in the moment.
I removed refined sugar from my immediate environment. I modified recipes to dramatically reduce amounts – coconut sugar, maple syrup, and dates can still trigger me, but less of them helps a lot. My personal rule: if I eat something and immediately want more of it, I need to stay away from it. That’s my signal.
And when I think I need sugar, here’s what I actually do:
- Drink water (often that’s it – dehydration)
- Cut up an apple with cinnamon
- Ask myself if I’ve had any leafy greens today
- Move my body, even briefly
- Meditate, or just pause
Some days are harder than others. I treat every day as a clean slate.
Why This Shaped Electric Beets
I didn’t want to build something I couldn’t eat – or that would send me into a spiral. I designed Electric Beets with my own relationship to sugar front of mind. That meant no refined sugars, being intentional with ingredients, and making sure what we make actually makes people feel good after they eat it – not just during.
Inflammation, headaches, cravings that won’t quit – I know that aftermath too well. Our food is built to avoid it.
I do my best and treat every day as a clean slate. Awareness, communication, and a solid support network matter more than perfection.
If any part of this resonates with you – you’re not broken, and “just stop eating it” isn’t the answer. It helps to talk about it. I’m glad you’re here.
