Where ISM Sweets Bakery Really Started

There’s a photo of me as a kid sitting at a table covered in newspaper, completely focused on what I was calling cookies.

They were a mess.

Icing everywhere.

Nothing even close to right.

And I seem to have loved it—like something in me locked in right then… baking imprinted before I even knew what it meant.

I didn’t care how they turned out. I didn’t care if they looked good.

I remember how quiet everything felt while I was making them.

Life didn’t stay quiet.

It got loud. Messy in a different way.

And, like many of us, I found something that helped me escape it.

Until it didn’t.

Getting sober wasn’t just about removing alcohol.

It was about figuring out what to do with everything that was still there.

The noise.

The thoughts.

I’m 11 years sober now, and I still come back to the same question—what helps me stay here, present, grounded?

And somehow, I landed back here. Ism Sweets Bakery.

Baking. (and consistent connection with my recovery community)

Not the cute version. Not the curated version.

Just… something to do with my hands when life gets lifey.

Something that slows me down enough to breathe.

And then there’s my daughter.

Autism is part of our everyday life. It always has been.

It’s not neat. It’s not predictable. It doesn’t follow timelines or expectations.

This summer, she’ll start learning alongside me—her way, her pace—working on a couple gluten-free staples and figuring out what this looks like for her.

No pressure. No forcing it.

That’s ISM Sweets.

Not a business plan. Not a trend.

Just two realities that shaped our lives:

Alcoholism.

Autism.

And instead of letting them just be heavy… we’re building something with them.

This isn’t about perfect cookies.

It’s about having somewhere to go when things feel like too much.

It’s about building something steady in a life that hasn’t always been.

And eventually, it’s about giving back to the recovery community,

and to the autism community that’s shaped us in ways I’m still learning to explain.

It’s about creating an inclusive space down the road—a place where individuals with special needs can work and where those in recovery have somewhere to land, connect, and just be.

We’re not there yet.

But we’re building the foundation now—one cookie at a time.

That little girl didn’t know any of this was coming.

She just knew baking made things feel a little quieter.

Turns out… she was onto something.