Home for me was filled with love, laughter, and delicious Italian home-cooked meals. I was surrounded by friends and family galore. I had my most basic needs met. I was raised by two larger-than-life parents who had good intentions. They raised three children who grew up to become loving, respectable, and decent human beings. Speaking about the tough stuff.... that ain't so easy. Just beneath the surface lingers hidden and not so hidden wounds from the love that went awry. The experiences that leave you feeling empty, lost, and disappointed. That often lead you into a world that makes no sense. Everyone's life has residuals, nobody escapes this. I certainly did not, no matter how many times I smiled to try and make it look as if I did. These are the moments that are difficult to discuss, but still so necessary to confront. It's my intention that my story will unleash permission for people to speak about the dark dirty stuff we carry inside. I am hell-bent on shedding some much-needed light and an abundance of love to so many of us in this world who use food to cope with struggles. Our critics could also use a dose of a new world reality, don't ya' think? I have not one regret. Every one of my mother's manic episodes led me to who I am today. Every ounce of confusion and grief I wept over my father's lifestyle and early departure led me to Truth. I now find myself stuffing myself silly with love and freedom no matter where I am on any given day. I walked through the nightmare and on the other side I found strength and clarity beyond my wildest imaginings. Please join me on this crazy beautiful ride we call life. I look forward to having you.
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