The Trap of Turkish Delight (and What Actually Helps)

There’s this moment in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe where Edmund bites into the White Witch’s enchanted candy—Turkish Delight—and everything changes. It’s sweet, it’s comforting, and it’s exactly what he thinks he needs. But it’s also a trap.

That scene stuck with me. Because I’ve been there.

Not with magical candy, obviously. But with the things I reached for when life felt unbearable—alcohol, overwork, perfectionism, even the approval of others. They gave me a hit of relief. A moment of quiet in the chaos. But they never lasted. And they always came with a cost.

When Relief Becomes a Trap

Before I had a name for what I was going through—before “bipolar disorder” entered the conversation—I found ways to cope. A glass of wine turned into a bottle. A late night at work turned into a lifestyle. I told myself I was managing. I told myself I was strong.

But the truth? I was just trying to survive.

And like Edmund, I didn’t see the trap until I was already in it. The more I relied on those quick fixes, the more I needed them. And the more I needed them, the more I lost sight of what actually mattered—connection, purpose, healing.

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What Peer Support Taught Me

Here’s what changed everything: I met people who had been there too. Not professionals with clipboards. Not experts with theories. But peers—people who had walked through their own winters and come out the other side. They didn’t offer me candy. They offered me something better: honesty, presence, and hope, with no strings attached.

They didn’t try to fix me. They sat with me. They shared their stories. They reminded me that I wasn’t alone, and that I didn’t have to keep numbing myself just to get through the day.

Real Nourishment Takes Time

Recovery isn’t fast. And it doesn’t always feel good at first. But it’s real. It’s learning to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. It’s trading the sugar rush of Turkish Delight for the slow, steady nourishment of community, purpose, and self-compassion. And it’s worth it.

If You’re in the Middle of It

If you’re in that place—if you’re reaching for something that feels good but leaves you emptier afterward—I get it. I really do. You’re not weak. You’re not broken. You’re just trying to survive. But survival isn’t the end of your story. There’s more. There’s healing. There’s connection. There’s a way forward that doesn’t require you to betray yourself for another bite of something that never really satisfies.

And you don’t have to walk it alone.