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 my head.

So I went anyway.

And within an hour, it began.

My parent made one of those comments. The kind everyone else laughs off, but for you, it lands like a slap you’re not allowed to react to.

I said something back. Nothing big. Just a tiny correction. A small boundary. And suddenly, I was in it.

The argument. The chaos. The whole trap.

Things escalated so fast I barely had time to blink.

I remember trying so hard to explain myself, to justify why it hurt, to convince them I wasn’t the problem. That my request was not too much.

Hoping, like a rookie, that maybe this time it would land.

Spoiler: it did not.

I ended up leaving the kitchen — crying alone in the basement — while everyone else acted like nothing happened.

I left that night wondering if I'd imagined the whole thing. If I was crazy or 'the problem.'

And I spent the next six months replaying every word.

Trying to figure out what I did wrong. Asking friends if I overreacted. Googling "am I too sensitive" and "is it me or is it them."

I didn't know it then, but that rumination? That endless loop of questioning myself?

That was their manipulation still working on me. Still lodged in my brain. Still twisting my reality and making me doubt what I knew happened.

It took finding the right kind of therapist to finally see it clearly—someone who could break down what actually happened.

How I got baited. The exact role I was pulled into. And how the entire interaction was designed to leave me feeling exactly the way I did: confused, guilty, and crazy.

And even then, it took two more years and a lot of my own research to fully understand what was happening and finally break free from the “am I crazy?” loop.

(No shade to my industry, I love being a therapist, but regular therapy training doesn’t touch this kind of wounding. I had to learn these dynamics the long way — through research, trial and error, and working with therapists who specialize in it).

When I finally got to the other side, I couldn't stop thinking about everyone still sitting in their car after a family dinner, unable to turn the key, replaying every word.

Because if I had known then what I know now, I would have seen exactly what they were doing to me, and I wouldn't have spent six months questioning my sanity.

I would have known how to walk away without the guilt crushing me, without replaying every word for weeks, without them living rent-free in my head.

I would have known, with absolute certainty, that none of it was about me.

I would have been free.

A lot of this is what eventually led me to become a therapist, one who specializes exclusively in adult children of emotionally immature parents, at that.

But this specific Thanksgiving holiday? That's what led me to build the Protect Your Peace Workshop and this year's Grief Masterclass.

Because I read your messages. Your replies. And I see it—you're sitting exactly where I was ten years ago. Replaying. Questioning. Wondering if you're the problem. Not knowing how to make it stop.

But I do.

And here is exactly what it takes:

You need to understand what’s actually happened to you — the manipulation, the role reversal, the little twists that leave you defending yourself against things you never said, whether it’s in a real conversation or just their voice running in your head.

You need to see how easily it makes you turn on yourself — questioning your memory, blaming yourself, or collapsing into that old familiar “maybe it is me” feeling they conditioned into you.

And you need the actual words and techniques that work when communicating with emotionally immature parents — for boundaries, for shutting down bait, and for quieting their voice long after the conversation is over.

All of this is exactly what Protect Your Peace is here to give you.

If you choose to do this work with me, you'll learn how to:

→ Break through the fog and confusion so you stop wondering if you're crazy, imagining things, or making it all up

→ Stop being cast as the “crazy one” when they push your buttons or bait you into conflict, and instead start responding in ways you’re actually proud of

→ Heal the part of you that still feels unworthy of love after emotionally immature parenting (via the free self-love masterclass)

→ State your boundaries in a way that actually works with emotionally immature people, so you can stop betraying yourself just to keep the peace.

This year, I have also added on the Grief Masterclass, because once you stop fighting and finally see them clearly, the grief of what you'll never have hits hard. And you need support for that too.

Want to know the wildest part of all of this?

I can't even remember the last time I ruminated or questioned my reality. And that used to consume SO much of my life.

I have holidays that feel good now. I don't lose myself around emotionally immature people. I can be in the same room and not even think twice about it.

To be clear: I'm not saying any of this to brag. I'm saying this so you know it's possible and that it's closer than you think.

And the best part? You don't have to spend two years figuring it out.

Protect Your Peace and the Grief Masterclass are available now. You can enroll here and start watching instantly.

If you’re wondering whether this class truly works (I so get this, there is so much noise out there right now), here’s a small glimpse of the DMs I get from past students:

These students didn't spend two years in therapy figuring this out. They got everything they needed in one afternoon.

The truth is, I can't go back and give this healing knowledge to the version of me sitting in that basement ten years ago, but I can give them to you.

Get them here.

Forever on your side,

Morgan

Morgan Pommells

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