When I was like 8 or 9, my parents and I were going to a small local event with stands and a band playing. I needed something quick to eat, so my parents gave me some Marie Calender's brand lasagna.
I got horribly, horribly food poisoned from it. I couldn't stop throwing up, I was in absolute agony all night. And none of us, including myself, wanted to go home. So I bore with it all night.
I can no longer make myself eat any lasagna or Marie Calender brand food. That experience made it so that if I smell lasagna, or even someone making a pasta with literally any red or meat sauce, I will get sick. I've thrown up from being forced to eat spaghetti because it's the only thing my parents made.
I've mostly gotten over this. But it still sticks in my mind awfully. Mostly the way my parents handled the situation. Most of the time we had leftovers I could eat, I threw up without fail every time, why couldn't I have just gotten leftovers or something? My family was below the poverty line, I get not being able to make anything else. But we had leftovers, we had oatmeal my brother and I didn't eat often, I had so many different choices to eat, yet they insisted on something I physically couldn't hold down. Until the day I turned 18.
Sometimes I try to say my parents weren't that bad. Lots of people had it worse, my parents are absolutely improving, my mom is actively learning about things that she adamantly refused to when I was younger, like Trans stuff and autism stuff and ADHD stuff. My dad is in anger management, both of them have improved a lot when it comes to caring about me and my brother.
But then I remember this instance. I remember never having my mom defend me to anyone, barely having her there when my grandma (dad's side) fatshamed me into having an eating disorder, or when her mom (mom's mom) angrily told me at my high school graduation not to hang out with "mexicans" or two of my best friends. Instead, she explained why she said that, but never defended me.
I remember my dad having a hairline trigger, something I still try to shuffle around, despite knowing he's a lot better about it now. Yelling at my brother and I for the smallest things, small arguments we could solve ourselves. He made me timid. He made me afraid.
They never asked me if I was bullied, if I was okay. I felt like they didn't want me for most of my life, because of how little it felt they cared about my mental state. As long as I was succeeding normally, they were fine.
And honestly, I don't know how to process this. This is the first time I've thought about this in years, I'm 26. I have a great relationship with my parents and brother, something I've always wanted. And I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth.
But then I get talking with my brother and he'll say, "Hey, you know those attachment issues mom and dad gave us?" And I'll think, "wait, he has them too?"
"Remember when they used to do this thing to us? Yeah, that was pretty fucked up huh?"
My brother takes me out of left field with how much he notices and cares. I've always had a horrendous relationship with him until we became adults. Now he makes sure I'm okay. He brought up the attachment issues because he knows about my relationship with bestie (fwb) and wants to make sure I'm alright. That I won't get my heart broken.
