I wasn’t going to write about this. I really wasn’t. Because… well, after all, it’s not that important. Not important like world peace or life-altering decisions. Not even important like finishing that thing I’ve been procrastinating on for weeks.
But this past week, I relapsed. Not in some dramatic way. Just… in a ridiculous way.
There I was at work, gathered for the quarterly planning session with my project team in a small room full of chocolate. A mountain of it. An avalanche, really. Brought in by one very thoughtful (and possibly mischievous) teammate, all the way from the UK. He thought we might “need a little sugar” to get through the long, intense days.
And there they were: the original Cadbury, chocolate bars with orange zest and mint zest, mini chocolate bars, chocolate cakes, round and rectangular chocolate cream biscuits—whispering my name from across the table.
Who can resist to such temptation?
I was surrounded. There was no escape. At first, I even tried to make a bargain with myself. I thought: ‘Only one per day. That worked about as well as you’d expect. It lasted maybe ten minutes. Then one piece. Then two. Then… you know where this is going.
I told myself, it’s fine, you’re just sampling, like it was some kind of wine and cheese tasting.
So why write about it? Because this small moment, this mini “fail,” made me think about the way we weigh things. What we allow, what we dismiss, what we minimize because it’s “not that important.” Until maybe it is.
My chocolate addiction isn’t new. It’s a lifelong frenemy relationship. Most days, I manage it. I even mitigated the risk by switching to 85% dark chocolate. This past week, I didn’t. This past week, I relapsed in the most dangerous way.
Why dangerous, you may ask? Well, because many years ago I was having chocolate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, until one day I found myself collapsed on the kitchen floor. That day, I quit sugar cold turkey for the entire year.
So, in spite of the relapse, I’m paying attention. Because if I tell myself something doesn’t matter long enough, I risk not seeing when it starts to matter.
My advice to myself—and to you—is this: No matter what, keep watching. Keep checking in with yourself. Because awareness is our highest form of caring.