Why I don't talk to them anymore
Wednesday. 7.13.22 2:23 pm
From 11-18, there was so much going on at home. At home, I was lonely. My parents would gamble their money away, my parents were unhappy in their marriage and it showed, and my grandma did not even acknowledge my existence, despite living in the same house. For a while, I didn't have a room. I slept in the living room on a bed; my brother and uncle on couches.
Regardless, I was so blessed in my middle and high school years. My safe space was church. Pastor Ben, P.Lin, Bemi, Micah, Diana, and all my other friends at church...it was my safe space. My mom would always be upset that it took up my time. But you know what? I would much have rather been at church than at home. I want to dive deeper into myself, and figure out truly why I stopped talking to them. For Diana, she feels burned because she gave a lot of herself for little acknowledgment. But me? I gave, and I was acknowledged by the church.
The true reason I stopped talking to them is because I do not believe what they believe anymore. I believe in a higher power, but I am not Christian. The true reason I don't speak with them is because I don't want them to keep trying to bring me back to church. Christianity is what kept us close. No longer can I have a relationship with them, because I will know in the back of my mind, they are praying I don't go to hell.
Regardless, I am filled with gratitude for these wonderful people, and the time they were in my life. Sometimes, I just want to send a message out to them, to let them know how grateful I am for their presence in my life. For the light they were for me. Maybe I will one day.
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Hello, I am Danni, a compulsive over eater
Saturday. 7.2.22 7:56 pm
I have come to a revelation in therapy. That I have intense childhood trauma that I never really recovered from. I come from a family with generational trauma. My father struggles with gambling addiction and infidelity. My mother is a codependent woman with her own gambling addiction, and self confidence issues.
I have always been the friend or therapist for my mother. Since I was eight years old, I can remember the countless times my mother has shared the issues she has with my dad. She would rant about him not being an adequate husband. But she would always end her rant with "but that's your dad, you should still love him."
My dad as well, never truly had a strong relationship with me, or my siblings. He has always been married to my mom. I truly believe in his mind, putting a roof over our head, food on the table, and keeping us alive was enough. On top of that, I am sure he knows my mom has fed me her own resentment for my father on a big spoon.
So, here I am, in my thirties. Remembering some of my childhood trauma. Seeings how it has shaped me into who I am today. And that is where compulsive eating comes in. Food has been there for me my whole entire life. Food was my medicine when I was sick. It was my joy; it was my love. It was the best way to numb myself from the pain of my childhood. Feeling lonely? Food is the answer. Feeling stressed? Food helps me feel good. Happy? Food is the perfect way to celebrate.
Truth is, food is not going to take my anxiety away. It isn't going to increase my self esteem. It isn't whats going to fix my unhealed wounds. It was the only way I could cope when I was a child, but it isn't anymore. It's time to stop hiding from the real deep rooted issues I have. I have to face them.
I can gladly say that I'm working through all of this through therapy, reading self help books, and going to OA. I am thankful for this new chapter in my life.
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