I have learned to feed myself.

For so long, I was force-fed everything that spiritually sustained me. There were things I wanted to spit out, but I trusted those who kept me fed. They seemed healthy enough. And I think they loved me.

At some point, I became a cafeteria mormon, choosing only the spiritual morsels I enjoyed. If something no longer appealed to me, I left it uneaten, but I did not want to give up on the idea of others feeding me. At times, I felt very guilty for using the cafeteria, and leaving so many items untouched. It was as if I was insulting those who prepared so many meals for me.

Then, I became violently ill after a particularly bad stretch of cafeteria food. I refused to return, no matter how lovingly my friends offered.

After a season of absolute starvation, I am finally learning to find spiritual food on my own. I forage. I hunt. I scavenge. I even steal. But I refuse to accept my spiritual food from the hand of anyone who may use it to control me. That will never happen again.

Call it pride. Call it a lack of faith. Just don't call me to your dinner table. I'll take care of myself.

But this time with actual nutritious food.

Too much cotton candy makes your tummy box broken.