The Feeling of Being Tossed Away
Imagine feeling like once someone is done with you, they toss you aside like a cheap disposable lighter—useful for a moment, but never thought of again. This has been a defining wound in my life, reinforced by untreated depression and a learned habit of pushing my needs aside for others. Every time I gave away my energy, it felt just as hopeless as if it had been taken from me.
Depression as a Baseline
When I finally sought help for what I thought was ADHD, my psychiatrist didn’t even entertain that conversation at first. She saw what I wasn’t ready to: I was in the middle of a severe depressive episode. I resisted at first, but as I sat with it, I realized that sadness had been my baseline for as long as I could remember.
Even in middle school, I wrote poetry about being trapped in a hole—crawling toward the light, only to fall back in. I carried this weight, feeling either too much or not enough, isolating myself while simultaneously longing for connection.
Recognizing the Pattern of Abandonment
Two divorces, the loss of longtime friends, a fractured relationship with my father—I spent years reinforcing the belief that once people were done with me, they would discard me. What I didn’t see was how I was contributing to the pattern.
I let people take advantage of me. I put their needs ahead of mine. I shrank myself, believing that just being me was not enough. I isolated and pushed others away, expecting them to fight for me, to save me—while never asking for what I truly needed.
The Wheel of Consent: A Systematic Way Out
Finding the Wheel of Consent was a turning point. It gave me a framework to see why I wasn’t asking for what I needed—and how I was trying to get it in ways that weren’t clean. I saw how I gave in hopes of receiving, how I manipulated situations to settle for fragments of what I actually wanted.
Through practice, I learned that voicing my wants—whether in giving or receiving—isn’t just empowering, it’s necessary. It’s also deeply rewarding to ensure that when I give or receive, it’s with full willingness and an open heart.
Even in structured exercises, moments of grief and guilt would surface when I allowed myself to receive. But being able to talk about it, process it, and still come back to my worthiness has been life-changing.
The Father Wound
I haven’t been the easiest son to raise. I was a sensitive kid, and I’m a sensitive man. My dad did his best, and I honor him for that, but I still don’t fully understand why we haven’t spoken in four years.
That’s when I felt it most—the disposable lighter feeling. When I became harder to “light,” when I was no longer the golden child who stayed quiet and agreeable, I felt like I was thrown away.
As a father myself, I can’t imagine discarding my daughter. That realization has helped me shift my perspective. I see now that I was trying to push my idea of a “good father” onto him, holding unspoken expectations. I wasn’t being as clear as I thought I was.
I’ve found peace in loving him from afar. It doesn’t erase the pain, but it keeps me in integrity with myself.
Coming Back to Myself with Intention
Meditation has helped me sit with these wounds instead of being consumed by them. Therapy and coaching have given me a mirror to see my role in my patterns. Mood stabilizers have helped me feel more—not just sadness, anger, or fleeting joy, but a fuller range of emotions. It’s harder in some ways, but I’d rather feel deeply than live in a constant dull sadness.
I still fall into the rabbit hole sometimes. But I catch it sooner. I offer myself grace instead of shame. And each time I turn back toward myself, I reinforce my own worthiness.
Taking Risks, Building Trust
Healing isn’t about becoming perfect—it’s about practicing, learning, and choosing different patterns. I’m learning to trust myself. I’m building friendships rooted in vulnerability and mutual trust. I’m taking risks because a fulfilling life demands them.
The best decision I’ve made is taking care of my mental health. And the most important thing I’ve learned? I am not disposable. I never was.
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