The Great Cake Confession

When we moved away the first time, back in 2000, I was very depressed. It’s kind of funny, because in my younger years I always thought I wanted to move away. I imagined an exciting adventure outside the walls of my hometown in Buffalo, NY. Any place would be better (or, so I thought)! I wanted to experience new things.

I met Garret, we got married. While engaged, he got a great offer with a company in Connecticut and we planned to move right after our honeymoon. We had a beautiful wedding, went on an incredible honeymoon to Napa Valley, and then we moved – all within the matter of a couple weeks. When I look back on this time, it’s no wonder I was just a little stressed and melting down daily. My head was spinning!

I’ll never forget our first New Year’s Eve in CT. We had a tradition which included filet mignon, lobster tail, champagne, and a really nice, romantic evening. As we sat down to enjoy our lovely meal, I broke down in tears. I was homesick. I missed my family. I missed our friends.

At the time, I didn’t have a job. No friends, no family, no job = depressed. This was way before our kids entered the world, so I was bored out of my mind. I would sit home all day long and watch TV – reruns of Matlock to be specific. It was so sad.

I formed a new habit during this dark time. I discovered cake. Not just any cake, but the cute little individual birthday cakes they sell in the bakery section of any local supermarket. Every single day (or, so it seemed) I ate cake. I would go to the store specifically to get the little cake. I would come home, eat my cake, and watch Matlock. There were a lot of tears. I gained a lot of weight. I didn’t know how to process the transition. I didn’t know how to handle the grief I was experiencing as my life, and my identity, was changing. So, I ate cake. Lots of cake.

The cake became a problem. Garret started to notice the containers in the garbage. It got so bad that I would actually cut them up, and hide the evidence deep in the garbage so he wouldn’t see.

The months went by, and I started to get more comfortable in my new surroundings. I tried a few different jobs, and ultimately landed a great gig in wireless telecommunications. Things slowly started to get better, and I stopped buying cake.

I can laugh (and sometimes cry) about this now, because it was a long time ago. It was a different version of me.

We recently moved again, just 4 short months ago. This time is so different. I have learned how to process my grief, I don’t need cake to help with that. I can choose ways to make my day more enjoyable, so I don’t mindlessly snack, or sit in front of the TV. I have my own business to run, and a family to care for. We’re making new friends, and my family is just a phone call or email away. I’m not hiding anymore.

I still love cake. I’m a big fan of buttercream icing! I just don’t eat cake like that anymore. I enjoy it when it is someone’s birthday (like mine, of course!!).

Every once in a while, I think about those cakes, and that time in CT. Whenever I’m