Freezing the Cake, Freeing Myself
June 20, 2025
A reflection on how something as simple as freezing slices of lemon cake has become a powerful act of self-parenting—and a symbol of the healing integration I’ve been working toward for years.
There’s been a pattern in me for a long time.
One I’ve danced with for years.
A quiet, persistent dynamic between my inner child and inner parent. And it shows up most clearly in something seemingly small:
Lemon cake.
Most nights lately, I’ve been going back to the kitchen for another slice.
Not out of hunger. But out of uncertainty. Loneliness. A need for comfort I haven’t always known how to give myself.
And this week, I realised something simple that felt incredibly important:
I can freeze the cake.
Not to restrict it. Not to control myself.
But to give that child inside me what he’s longing for with care instead of chaos.
When the inner child is scared, tired, or uncertain, he reaches for what he knows: sugar, sweetness, comfort.
And when the inner parent is absent, that reaching becomes unconscious, automatic, sometimes overwhelming.
But when the inner parent is present—not angry, not shaming, just present—everything softens.
So now, I’m freezing the cake in slices.
Each piece becomes a small act of self-love.
A symbol of care, of trust, of boundary without punishment.
Because when I ignore that deeper voice—the one I now think of as my soul—I feel it.
My energy slumps.
Coping mechanisms become louder.
I spiral into analysis, shame, or overthinking.
But when I listen to my body… when I pause before eating… when I check in with the part of me that feels lost or uncertain, and ask:
“What do you really need right now?”
I find that the cake isn’t the only answer.
And sometimes it’s not the answer at all.
I’ve started to realise that this integration—the relationship between the part of me that longs for sweetness and the part of me that can offer structure—might be the most healing work of all.
Because it’s the one that has kept me stuck in a body I don’t quite feel at home in.
And I want to feel lighter. Not just in weight—but in how I live inside myself.
This is not a diet.
This is not discipline.
This is reparenting.
This is finally saying to my inner child:
“You’re allowed to want. You’re allowed to need.
And I will help you meet those needs—not blindly, but with love.”
So I freeze the cake.
Not to deprive myself—but to remind myself:
I don’t need to eat everything all at once to feel okay.
I just need to know that I’m not alone in the craving anymore.
And if I can learn to pause… listen… and offer comfort in other ways—
A walk, a breath, a quiet sit with my fear—
Then I begin to build a relationship where I can trust myself again.
This is the shift.
This is the healing.
One slice at a time.
