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Morgan Pommells

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The thanksgiving that ruined me

I’m sharing a personal story from my own life today, something I don’t often do. I offer it not for you to carry, but to remind us that therapist and patient, writer and reader, are both human — both shaped by the stories we hold. My hope is that you’ll see yourself reflected here and feel a little less alone. I knew I didn’t want to go that year. My whole body was saying just stay home. But not going felt worse. The guilt, the judgment, the “you’ve changed” comments I could already hear in...

Quick thing before the holiday weekend. Your Emotionally Immature Parent is invested in you looking like the crazy one. Emotionally immature parents, especially the more punishing or slightly “sadistic” ones (and I know that word sounds extreme, but I’m using it in its true clinical meaning), often feel a sense of relief when they can position you as the bad one. This is because EIPs carry overwhelming internal chaos made up of shame, rage, inadequacy, and fear, and they have little to no...

Welcome to the Fall Healing Series. If you’re here, you already know what it’s like to grow up with an emotionally immature parent. To spend years second-guessing yourself. To wonder if maybe you are the problem. You’ve analyzed texts, sent screenshots to friends, even dropped them into ChatGPT—just hoping someone would finally say, “You’re not crazy. This is real.” And maybe, at some point, you tried to tell your parent how their words hurt you. But instead of actually hearing you, they...

You didn’t land here by accident. Some part of you already knows the way you’ve been connecting with your partner isn’t working. Beth knew that feeling too. She grew up in a home where love had strings attached. Her mom’s rage could spark in an instant. To survive, she learned to stay hyper-alert: scanning every detail, over-explaining, keeping one step ahead so she wouldn’t be blindsided. By the time she was married, those same survival strategies were running her relationship. She poured...

I’m sharing a personal story from my own life today, something I don’t often do. I offer it not for you to carry, but to remind us that therapist and patient, writer and reader, are both human — both shaped by the stories we hold. My hope is that you’ll see yourself reflected here and feel a little less alone. Before becoming a therapist and coach, I was you. There’s a particular kind of humiliation that comes from sitting on the edge of a bed at 2 a.m., your partner’s side empty, and...