Addiction Story #1, Buttercup: I Know an Addict When I See One

And I definitely do — in the mirror. This is #1, Buttercup, in my flower-titled series on sugar addiction.

The Evil Queen with mirror. Illustrations from the 1913 play “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.” Jessie Braham White, Jacob Grimm, Wilhelm Grimm, Edmond W Rickett and Charles Buckles Falls.

Here’s how I know I am an addict. I cannot turn away from my substance once I start — primarily if it’s sugary but also floury, baked buttery, chocolate, salty or sweet chippy, fried or doughy (or fried and doughy).

I might return to its lure, chase its hit, five minutes later, that night, the next day. For a string of days. A dead daisy crown of months. A tarnished silver necklace of years. And when I indulge in my substance — as with alcohol or drugs, I guess— my personality can change wildly. I might be evil. Also fearful, sad, erratic and undependable.

I can’t show up fully for you, or for myself.

Take yesterday, Saturday, January 30 at 10:06 a.m., when I was screaming at my family. Raging, really.

It was the aftermath of yet one more pandemic Friday. I had tried hard to show up for life. I had succeeded. Slogged through kitchen and dirty refrigerator cleanup (singing “Hey Jude” and “Here Comes the Sun” with our speaker by the sink) while Skipper, 13, attended remote school on the couch.

I had forced myself into a shower with Aveeno Daily Moisturizing Body Wash with Soothing Oat, brushed my hair, hoped…