Creative Expression and Emotional Honesty with @SadBoyBakes
“This may be a little Waitress-coded, but it’s truly amazing what baking can do.”
Baking as a Creative Expression
Expressing emotions through art is not a newfound concept. Though, mixing expression and emotional processing for mental health awareness and identity discovery is not commonplace.
At this vulnerable junction of emotions and creativity, you’ll find Chris Hixon of Sad Boy Bakes. Layered like a Smith Island Cake, Chris sifts, folds, and kneads art from the comfort of his own kitchen.
Opening a door to his artistic process, Chris records his baking process to later share on Instagram. Many of the steps are foundational and second-nature to a baker like Chris. Ritualistically, he finds a window of time to allow his mind to wander during those habitual steps.
Recently, he remembered something a friend once told him, “wherever you are, be all there.” This made Chris’s shoulders soften and mind quiet in a much-needed pause.
His baking practice sets his mind and hands into motion; creating space to work through his emotions while his hands move methodically through what he can control. His baked goods and the thoughts surfaced are personal and powerful, communicating emotions in ways that the spoken word sometimes falls flat.
Indulge in delicate ideas around why being emotionally vulnerable matters, how feeling seen impacts an individual’s value of self, and what role creativity can play in processing emotions.
Navigating Emotional Vulnerability and the Feeling of “Not Enough”
Baking with emotions allows Chris to be kind to himself and others. He is present. He is vulnerable.
Pressure begins to roll off of his shoulders while organizing his mise en plas. In his kitchen, all that exists is his freshly settled mind and the ingredients before him. Just like his many thoughts that were recently swirling, the ingredients are out in the open and present the opportunity to be transformed into something palatable.
An inventory of his thoughts to achieve, to matter, and to make the most of his days happen with an effortless, full surrender. Pressure he has put on hisself built up once again, and he has bitten off more than he can chew — a feeling that is not a stranger to friends of ambition. His list of goals had grown longer than the list of ingredients for any recipe he’s made this year.
Sadness is folded into his thoughts during moments like this. Chris has learned to challenge the emotion, while fully recognizing its presence. Perhaps if he does everything very well, all of the time, he will have eliminated every risk of being seen as “not enough.” He will matter. His mind considers the proposition while pouring the batter into 8” round pans.
After placing his creation into the oven, Chris always looks around his kitchen. The similarity between his mind and his kitchen in this moment is uncanny. Chris explains that his “dishwasher and Scrub Daddy seem to threaten creating a union because of the unfair labor practices he has mandated.” His swift scrubbing and sweeping of the kitchen in the slow minutes that the cake bakes at its own pace feels like a dueling sense of self.
Once again, he proves he can do it all. The kitchen is clean. Chris pulls the cake pans out of the oven at the moment of perfection, not a second past midnight. Admission that just because he can do it all, doesn’t mean it’s healthy wafts through the air, tangled in the sweet chocolate aroma.
“People don’t see what’s behind the baker, and I like that. I don’t need everyone to know what’s going on in my head, but it’s a great feeling when people feel loved and known when I bring them their favorite treat.”
Conflicted with the sense of accomplishment, Chris shifts his mind from hisself to his friend. Feeling altruistic bubbles of pride fill his chest, he stands a little straighter. He knows this cake will make her smile and feel seen. Her favorite flavors are as layered as their friendship, ready for the celebration of a new decade of life.
Chris rests on the thought that people need people. And his people, including this friend, are not there to cheer loudly, but to embrace vulnerability and shoulder the feelings that fear taking the shape of words. His friends are enough for him. He is enough for his friends. He can be enough for himself. He shares:
“There is a quote that is way too long, but there’s a fig tree analogy that is a on my mind. I’d be a bestselling author, husband, star baker, father, musician, composer, traveler, counselor, doctor, and friend. But each of those accomplishments would bore ten more ambitions. There’s not enough time in the day or days of our lives. So, I’m okay with “enough” being out of reach. Perhaps it’s enough to get as far as I have today?”
Considerations of how he can soften the self-prescribed pressure rest next to the cake on the cooling rack before taking a shape that he is satisfied with.
Then, once again, he delivers the sacred gift of being seen, valued, and celebrated in the shape of a decadent birthday cake.
Baking and Mental Health Online
Naming emotions honestly and accurately is a skillful feat that requires emotional intelligence and vulnerability. In the current landscape of social media, emotions shared are questionable at best. Putting up a facade or dramatizing emotions are typically what social media community members ingest, sometimes flip-flopping between the two post after post as they scroll through their feed.
This dizzying reality inspires Chris. Rather than conforming to the norm, he thoughtfully counters by sharing his emotions honestly in his corner of the internet.
“Social media is a place where people bring their best self to the point where it almost seems fake. Sad Boy Bakes makes me feel more grounded so I don’t feel the pressure to look at the (metaphorical) measuring cup half-full all the time.”
An outlier in the world of social media, Chris is not looksmaxxing or mogging while baking a chocolate Oreo cookie dough cake for a dear friend’s 30th birthday. Instead, while he constructs the chocolatey goodness of a cake, he shares an observation about doing too much just to feel joy. He teeters back and forth on how we are supposed to feel in this current chapter of life. Which, may not have an answer at all. And if it did, who would have the correct answer?
Chris plays mental tug a war with emotions of gratitude, isolation, awe, and sadness that he has faced this year. Then, he candidly states that he wants to have fun. Chris has answered his own question; which leaves me to wonder if we are asking enough introspective questions to be honest with ourselves before we broadcast the emotions we publish online.
“I never want to intake content that isn’t reflective of the entire human experience”
Unapologetically choosing joy, even when life has been challenging him, Chris maintains a grasp on his mental health before he shares his emotions online. Exploring his emotions and asking introspective questions, even while baking, allows him to gain clarity before picking up his phone. This practice he has created allows him to normalize what has not always been socially accepted — sharing real emotions even if they’re not the most desirable.
That’s the magic of Chris in the kitchen and Sad Boy Bakes online.
Exploring Longing Through Baking and Creative Expression Online
On his platform, Chris speaks about longing in a way that feels both personal and universal.
He explains that “[longing and baking are] a game of constantly feeling like you’re starting at zero. You start with nothing but a goal in mind and all the tools to get there. You’re fully aware of the inevitability of failure, but you don’t let it get in the way.” The feeling this evokes almost swallows me whole. I’ve had to restart different categories of my life and the act of starting over once felt laden with tragedy. Neverthe less I trudged through the muddied experience.
Turning to Chris’ post, I question what happens if the thought of failure settles in despite all efforts? Is this where longing morphs into anticipatory grief of goals, no matter how achievable they are?
Continuing to share his perspective, Chris breathes hope into the emotion of longing that can easily be looked over. Through his vulnerability, I realize there is a softness to the edges of this feeling that was once as sharp as chef’s knife.
I am hypnotized by the fluid motions of Chris stacking raspberry pistachio linzer cookies as my thoughts swirl. When we start over we don’t begin at zero. It certainly feels like it, but we show up with new skills, perspective, and knowledge.
In the world of baking, I acknowledge how Chris returns to a recipe after the cookies carried more of a crunch than a delicate crumble. Longing for the classic light and slightly crisp bite, careful consideration is given to how the flour is measured and how long the dough is worked. Somewhere between the purchase of a kitchen scale and being extra mindful of the time spent mixing the wet and dry ingredients, hope is found.
Chris returns to the kitchen in instances where specks of hope keep the vision of his goal alive. For others, starting over is expressed in the actions of showing up to the gym, submitting another job application, scheduling an appointment with an infertility specialist, or showing up for another round of chemotherapy. The zest for more energizes our desires for something we believe is greater.
Chris ruminates on the concept of belief, and shares that:
“Belief is a funny thing. It’s remaining steadfast in the hope of something greater when you have every reason to think it’s impossible.”
I picture Chris adding a dollop of raspberry jam on his cookies while he debated the balance of the reality of wanting more than what we have, while not devaluing appreciation for what we already possess.
To Chris, if he’s longing he knows that he is living. He elaborated that as longing is part of the human experience. Chris believes we should learn to live with longing while balancing contentment. The balance beam between longing and contentment may feel more like a withering tightrope in some instances, but they can coexist harmoniously. f
When he pulls baked goods out of the oven, the balancing act begins. Has he reached what he was longing, or are these just good enough for this moment? When the speck of hope has led Chris to create something that matches his vision, what he has truly been longing comes within reach.
He longs to share what he has made with the recipient and watch the magic come to life. Community is created, people feel loved, and Chris has worked through emotions while expressing care for himself and others. This is the peak moment of Chris’ expression of longing. His friends, family, and others clearly see and taste the longing to provide a moment of delicious happiness for others.
His kindness does not stop there. Through the documentation and publishing of his creative expression and vulnerable musings, he extends the feeling of community to a space that often feels superficial or full of doom and gloom. One post at a time, honest vulnerability is practiced and his community is positively influenced, seen, and in good company with Chris.
Q & A
Q: Why “Sad Boy Bakes”? What does that name hold for you and what do you want it to communicate to others?
A: The whole Instagram account started as a way to just archive my baking “stories” I’d post. After a coffee date with my friend Shelby, I finally kicked it off. There were plenty of options using my nickname “Chip” but many were taken. Sad Boy Bakes was a way to normalize mental health conversations that aren’t always so light. I’m a believer in the full spectrum of emotions and hate when people look at sadness like an illness. We all get sad, some more than others, so why not embrace it so we can appreciate the happiness that follows? An old friend once said, “wherever you are, be all there” and it really stuck with me. In moments when I’m down, I don’t brush it off or pretend it doesn’t exist. I break it down to understand why I have this feeling so I can then address it, work through it, and find a way to some light. In short, I’m just a sad boy who likes to bake.
Q: How do you know when something is ready to be shared versus kept private?
There’s no perfect formula. It’s a just a gut feeling. There’s a rhetorical device called “kairos” which translates to an “exact or opportune time.” Even when it’s uncomfortable, there are moments when things feel good to share and need to be shared. My gut’s been wrong though, which reallllllly sucks. Live and learn.
Q: What does it mean to you to make someone feel seen, understood, or less alone?
I went a long time feeling unseen, misunderstood, and alone. I don’t ever want anyone to feel that way because of anything I do or say. I know the gravity of an unkind word or untoward action. A lot of my life choices and decisions are made with the consideration of “don’t make people feel as bad as you used to.”
Q: Have there been moments where someone’s response to your work stayed with you?
I still hang out with the responses people have shared over the years and think of them fondly. Some days they were hard to hear, but for the most part, I really loved the chance to dig deeper with someone I care about.
Q: Your captions and voiceovers resonate deeply with people, what responsibility, if any, do you feel when sharing words publicly?
First and foremost, there’s a duty to be honest while remaining protective. Self-protection is key because sharing vulnerability has a cost to it. Words are now a part of my digital footprint, so I have to be okay with strangers seeing whatever I present. If I’m really upset, I’m allowed to talk about it, but will I regret that in five years? The other responsibility is boundaries. I’ve had so many people open up about their lives to me because of something I said. I want to be a listening ear but also need to be mindful of triggers too. I’ve made the mistake of over-empathizing (if that’s possible) to the point where I’ve found myself in darker spaces for taking on the troubles of others. So yes, I like to be a listening ear, but can’t be responsible for being something I’m not (i.e. a licensed mental health counselor).
About Chris Hixon
The Creator of @SadBoyBakes Instagram account, Chris Hixon chooses vulnerability and practices creative expression in the form of baking to emotionally process and help others feel seen.