“I’m 4 years old, a happy middle daughter. My parents get along and we are wealthy. I love my father very much but he travels a lot for work. I miss him terribly.” She became emotional. “He is coming home after his trip. I’m in the living room, anxiously waiting for him, with my older brother. My Dad opens the door. We jump on him, and he hugs and kisses us.
He brings in two heavy suitcases. My sister and I know the drill. We open the gray one in the middle of the room. It’s packed with goods: shoes, toys, clothes. But what I like the most – the exotic chocolates: Swiss, Belgium, German- individually wrapped in a golden paper.
My brother and I split the treasure evenly. My Dad put so much love and intention into choosing these for us. Each time he brings new kinds and brands of chocolate!” She was beaming. “Daddy is back!. I’m so glad. I love him so much! I’m not close to my mom. She is strict. Daddy spoils me and takes me on adventures.” She explained.
“What does chocolate mean to you today?” I inquired. “My daddy’s love, being the favorite, feeling safe and appreciated.” When Debra woke up, she said: “you know, my chocolate drawer is the exact dimensions of the suitcase! Wide and deep and comforting!” I smiled.
He brings in two heavy suitcases. My sister and I know the drill. We open the gray one in the middle of the room. It’s packed with goods: shoes, toys, clothes. But what I like the most – the exotic chocolates: Swiss, Belgium, German- individually wrapped in a golden paper.
My brother and I split the treasure evenly. My Dad put so much love and intention into choosing these for us. Each time he brings new kinds and brands of chocolate!” She was beaming. “Daddy is back!. I’m so glad. I love him so much! I’m not close to my mom. She is strict. Daddy spoils me and takes me on adventures.” She explained.
“What does chocolate mean to you today?” I inquired. “My daddy’s love, being the favorite, feeling safe and appreciated.” When Debra woke up, she said: “you know, my chocolate drawer is the exact dimensions of the suitcase! Wide and deep and comforting!” I smiled.
A week later she texted. “The next day, habitually, I opened the drawer in the morning, looked at my stash. A curated international collection of chocolates. But I felt nothing. Am I sick? No desire for chocolate. I had to force myself to eat one, to make sure I was OK.” She shared in astonishment. “Now, I’m just like a regular person, not an addict” she clarified. “I can eat it. I enjoy chocolate, but I’m not obsessing over it anymore.”
