After so many lessons with people I perceived to be friends, I now never eat at their table (or any table with them for that matter). I’ve grown to no longer trust in people who “feed” me what they want me to have no matter how hungry I might think I am. It’s no longer worth my life to do so.
Let me explain …
In a literal sense, I no longer trust eating from anyone because of the experiences I’ve had with being poisoned with some type of substance. Even when I didn’t sense a person I thought was a friend to be an enemy, there was often a check within my spirit to throw the food they’d give me away. Sometimes I didn’t know the reason for this, but after some time around certain people I considered friends, I learned that various reactions I had to things they’d given me to eat didn’t bode well with my body. So, I began trusting that nudge within my spirit that made me halt at the sight of their gift of food.
In the beginning, it was never my thought process to consider that the food I’d eat from a “friend” would be anything less than edible. So, I never considered the stomach pains I’d have after taking a bite of something, the slight hesitations I’d make based on the looks I received from the giver, or the overwhelming desire I had to throw the food away after some time had passed as anything other than “pesky situations” until it became overwhelmingly apparent that something had been done to the food.
In fact, I’ve had a number of situations proving to be dangerous for me when I’ve accepted and eaten food from a “friend”. Looking back, however, the “friend” was not truly a friend because a friend would never seek to cause one’s demise. If for no other reason than to see me suffer with some type of sickness, the friends I’ve had who’ve given me food that caused me varying reactions seemed to actually want my death in a literal sense. There is no other logical explanation for their poisoning my food that even makes sense.
Specifically, on isolated occasions, a so-called friend would bring me one of my favorite dishes – usually a desert, and I wouldn’t think anything of it. However, once I began discerning that their behaviors were off with me, I’d stop and reconsider what was happening around me. I started to become more aware of the environment around me, and sometimes this meant that I needed to be more in tune in a spiritual sense to consider what was going on around me.
Food was always the last thing I’d consider to be a problem even though I might have experienced nausea, dizziness, stomachaches, diarrhea or flat out sickness that would take me off my feet. Frequently, I’d gaslight myself into believing that the envy and pockets of hatred I felt daggered into my direction from these so-called friends were just figments of my imagination. However, I’d learn with time and patterns that what I was discerning was definitely real.
I’d had some close calls with near-death experiences when it came to ingesting food from a so-called friend, all while they stood silently by and watched my reactions. In fact, one situation was nearly fatal for me, and I was rushed to the hospital. I will never forget the look on a flying monkey’s face when the doctor jokingly suggested that someone might have tried to poison me. The flying monkey’s face turned into a sheet of ice right before my eyes, and even though I thought their reaction was strange at the time, I hadn’t considered the implications that someone poisoning me was true until I put two and two together much later.
After I had come to the conclusion that one so-called friend had literally poisoned my food, that flying monkey who was a witness to the doctor’s statement stopped speaking to me and eventually transferred to a different facility for work. By the time I’d come full circle with evidence to prove what had occurred, I had experienced a multitude of other malice-driven issues against me from the person responsible for my near-death experience.
Bad Food Experiences with Narcissists
Outside of my mother, four other narcissists have tampered with food they’d given to me in the past. From those experiences, I’ve learned that eating from any table set for me by a supposed enemy isn’t an option. So now, I no longer accept food from anyone just to keep myself safe. If my nonacceptance offends the person, I always mention that I’m careful not to eat anything when I don’t know the ingredients to save myself from suffering from a fatal allergic reaction. I’d rather be safe than dead.
My Voice Unchained 