I used to host the holidays. I cooked enough for an army. I made the house glow with candles, music, and pies in the oven. I set the table like I was preparing for a reunion that would finally feel like family. I did it because I loved it, but also because I hoped they would love it too. That if I created enough warmth, enough beauty, enough comfort, they’d want to stay longer, reach out more, see me differently, remember me better. Then one year…I stopped. I didn’t send the

Rage-snacking wasn’t about hunger. It was about finding a voice when silence was forced. Step 9 is about no longer needing an audience for justice.