I didn't feel love unless it was painful

  growing up, Thanksgiving was a huge holiday. one of my mom's love languages was feeding people. she was an amazing cook. one of my grandma's love languages was also feeding people. we had good food on holidays. i have a lot of happy memories from my childhood surrounding today. then why am i so blah today? i'm remembering no-so-happy repressed memories. i'm questioning how happy my childhood actually was. i'm holding on by a string. why should i be thankful? the abuser texted me earlier. i deleted it. i can't even call him "father" and he's completely lost the rights of "dad". he abused me and my sister and who knows else. he doesn't deserve to be apart of my life. so on this day so rooted in family, why should i be thankful when family was my abuser? i do have things i'm thankful for. i have lights at the end of the tunnel, and they're not trains. i'm thankful for having a patient partner who is supportive and loving. h

  i guess i can't run from everything. i also end up coming back to some. my life is fucked up. memories that i suppressed are coming back because i'm no longer in survival mode. my childhood wasn't good. it wasn't all bad. i do have cherished memories. but some of the memories i thought were good aren't. some of the periods i pushed to the back of my mind and locked behind layers and layers of concrete and steal. survival mode sucks balls. i went to therapy. it helped. but i'm really bad at therapy. i was trained to be a people pleaser. i was trained to figure out what people wanted and give it to them. my own wants and needs be damned. i'm working on that.  there was always one constant in my life. one thing that helped more than anything else. one thing that helped me process the chaos in my head. writing. i have so many journals. online and offline. i'm not posting here again to gain popularity. i don't care about getting famous for my trauma. i