From Heartache to Cake: How Sourdough Saved the Day

There’s nothing quite like a breakup to make you re-evaluate your life choices—like, should I have seen the red flags? Could I have eaten more carbs to prepare for this emotional chaos? As it turns out, life has a way of nudging you (okay, shoving you) in the direction you’re meant to go, even if it feels like everything is crumbling around you.

This is the story of how I turned heartache into hustle and why sourdough is now the only relationship I fully trust.

You know how breakups go. One day, you’re planning a future together, and the next, you’re wondering how all your personal belongings ended up stuffed into black garbage bags like you’re starring in some low-budget, post-breakup sitcom.

When the dust settled and I found myself with a lot of free time (and a lot of feelings), I realized something. As much as I had lost, I still had one thing that had never let me down—my baking.

That breakup? It didn’t break me. It gave me the time and space to focus on what I truly love: creating beautiful, handmade sourdough bread that people enjoy. And honestly? Bread never made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. It didn’t

tear me down or make me question my worth—it simply rose, every time, with no drama. And if it didn’t rise? No big deal. I’d just start fresh and move on—no hard feelings.

And so, I threw myself into the one thing that had never broken my heart:

SweetCakes SourDough.

I’ll admit, those first few days post-breakup were rough. I spent a lot of time wondering if I should text them, cry into my dough, or eat an entire cake by myself. The cake was a strong contender. But instead, I did what I do best—I baked. and I cried.  And I baked again!

There’s something incredibly therapeutic about mixing flour, water, and salt and seeing it transform into bread before your eyes. It’s like the dough doesn’t care if you’re having a bad day; it just needs to be kneaded. And honestly, the slap-and-fold technique? The perfect way to channel that post-breakup rage into something productive. Every time I slapped that dough, I imagined I was letting go of the past and moving forward—one fold at a time.

As I focused on the business, something unexpected happened. SweetCakes SourDough began to grow—like, really grow. Orders were coming in faster than I could bake, and suddenly, I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I was too busy feeding starters, shaping loaves, and making cakes for people who actually appreciated my work (unlike some exes we won’t name).

Turns out, when you stop wasting time worrying about someone who doesn’t deserve you, you have a whole lot of energy to pour into something that truly matters. And for me, that was my business. SweetCakes SourDough became my sanctuary, my happy place, and the best relationship I’ve ever had—one that came with cinnamon raisin walnut bread, no less.

Here’s the thing about baking (and life): not everything rises perfectly every time. Sometimes, the dough doesn’t cooperate, and sometimes, neither do people. But the beauty is in the process. You keep going, you keep kneading, and eventually, things come together in the most unexpected and delicious ways.

So, here I am—single, happy, and deeply in love with my business. I’ve learned that the best way to heal is to dive into your passions, whether that’s baking, knitting, or, I don’t know, competitive break dancing.

SweetCakes SourDough has become more than just a business; it’s a reminder that I’m capable of building something strong, even when life doesn’t go as planned.

If you’re going through a tough time, my advice is simple: find something you love and pour your heart into it. For me, it was baking. For you, it might be something else entirely. But trust me when I say that when you focus on what brings you joy, the rest will follow. Plus, there’s always bread—bread will never break your heart.

So here’s to new beginnings, to focusing on the things that really matter, and to finding joy in the unexpected. And if you need a little comfort along the way, I’ve got some freshly baked sourdough with your name on it.