Coffee & Nicotine

A newfound meaning of survival, in the form of caffeine and nicotine. I feel like that's all I've been able to put in my body these last few weeks. I haven't found that happy medium of healthy portion sizes. I've realized while reading through my old posts that I've been dealing with this since I was a teenager. I binge or I deny. Just as with many other substances in my life, I suffer from an unhealthy relationship with food. As I sit here in the home, I have rebuilt for myself for the tenth time that stability has never been something I am familiar with. I remember this amazing human being that I used to follow on Instagram said something along the lines of:

"A cycle of trauma must become a circle of healing."

Generational trauma is arguably a pandemic all on its own. Even if we think we've escaped it we haven't. It is something that takes a conscious effort in every choice we make throughout our day. My mother had an unhealthy relationship with herself, her body, and food. This struggle exacerbated by my father who made comments about her weight and constantly belittled her. So I grew up unable to accept my own body. Let us be clear though, my mother has always been too good for my father. I believe that is why he had to break her down and reform her as his wife and property. Mormon Corp. has everything set in place to enable these behaviors.

It took a stranger becoming a friend and then becoming a lover to remind me that my body should be worshiped. Not just by a man, I'm not saying that at all. We should respect ourselves. We should know what we like and do not like. We should be able to say no, so that when yes comes around we wholeheartedly believe it and have it respected. I can say no. I can say no to a drink. I can say no to sex. I can say no to binging myself asleep with 4,000 calories. I can say no to a line of something that makes me feel up. I can say no to covering a shift at work. I can say no to going out when I am not in the mood to socialize. I can also say yes, when I want to. I guess I just need to want to say yes. That is something I will be bringing up to Kathy (my therapist). How do we learn how to say yes or no when that choice was not allotted to us in childhood?

I want to be happy. I don't know if that means I will live to be 80, and I really don't think I want that. But I want what little time I have left in this existence to be happy. I just need to learn what that means for me. My happiness is my own. Sure, I will need help with anti-depressants for the rest of my life, but that's okay. I've been dealt a shitty hand over and over and over. So why have I never left the table?

I don't want to sit here anymore.