Daddy Recovery

Part of the magic of children is how wonderfully ethereal they are, unbeknownst to them. I was a wealth of virtues my father never had or, at least, had lost long before I came into his life. I was sweet and sparingly smart. I had a good sense of humor that even adults enjoyed. I loved to dance, sing, and be friends with as many people possible based on the simple desire to just have fun with others. His abuse killed these traits, and while I made daddy recovery to recoup them, I could never regain them in the eyes of my siblings or even their children because my father´s villainous nature had painted me as the natural evil he, actually, was. My father´s sole goal throughout my life was to see if my mother, the love of his life, would give him another chance, and my mother´s mistake was a false belief if he truly loved her as much as he would scream to her he did like, a grown man childishly weeping, that, somehow, that love would transfer, automatically, to the product of it. Yet, my father fell madly in love with my mom, and had me because SHE wanted me, and when she did not want him, he did not want me and nor did his other wife. 

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check out my TikTok @daddyrecovery
YT/IG: @diandrareviewsitall


Read my truth at www.daddyrecovery.com

Follow me on all music platforms under Diandra and check out my newest single based off Daddy Recovery: Mr.H

It is kind of trippy to be entering your 30s realizing you never had a home. My 20s was spent battling health issues, traveling the world, and doing concert reviews. It was a musical mess that brought me bliss until I realized I could not stay in one place too long without feeling like an imposition, as if the government of Amsterdam would notice it’s stark incline in Dutch pancake consumption because I extended my 3 months stay to 6.

Support the show

check out my TikTok @daddyrecovery
YT/IG: @diandrareviewsitall


Read my truth at www.daddyrecovery.com

Follow me on all music platforms under Diandra and check out my newest single based off Daddy Recovery: Mr.H

When you define yourself as pain…. You become it. My mother had a lot of pain in her life, especially with my dad but she really did try to do her best and to get to her better, despite him and all. THAT is why I reserve forgiveness for her. My mother made mistakes but my father made graves. He buried people because his soul lived underground, and I could sit here and either admire that as a child I picked that up or judge my mother, as an adult, for not doing so. Either way, I give grace because, often, we judge women for falling for men’s lies, but some me, like my dad, are such good liars that the even have themselves convinced. 

Support the show

check out my TikTok @daddyrecovery
YT/IG: @diandrareviewsitall


Read my truth at www.daddyrecovery.com

Follow me on all music platforms under Diandra and check out my newest single based off Daddy Recovery: Mr.H

¨I got The Rose!¨ announced Nina. ¨The Rose!¨ the room audibly announced. For just 23.99 on Amazon Prime you can receive what Josie declared as ¨The Ultimate Orgasm¨ within 10 minutes of its usage. A 2 part master-tech with 7 modes,  Nina was describing The Rose like a car dealer would the most lavish vehicle on the lot. She did not have to tell us twice. Within minutes, we had a prime membership, and within days we were all blessed with a new rose in our garden. The naughtiness of the conversation stayed with me because society has the tendency to shape-shift its prejudice over actually shaping up.

Support the show

check out my TikTok @daddyrecovery
YT/IG: @diandrareviewsitall


Read my truth at www.daddyrecovery.com

Follow me on all music platforms under Diandra and check out my newest single based off Daddy Recovery: Mr.H

Being able to call my dad a piece of shit, has been surprisingly liberating, and not in this vindictive kind of way. It feels cathartic, powerful, and I hope in time totally relieving over the fact that he was, actually,. In essence, I am giving myself the freedom to call my father a horrible human being, which he was, along with so many other toxic relationships because I never really had the permission to do so. I had to call them flawed, and, at best, myself a sensitive person lacking selectivity. The problem, neither label fits the truth; they were bad people that I chose because I was bad to myself, which means I was not that good. 

Support the show

check out my TikTok @daddyrecovery
YT/IG: @diandrareviewsitall


Read my truth at www.daddyrecovery.com

Follow me on all music platforms under Diandra and check out my newest single based off Daddy Recovery: Mr.H

My father gaslit me so much, I cannot even go pass a smokers´ sections anymore. I, literally, should tattoo flammable on my ass. For my father, gaslighting was the Reverse-Uno of psychological abuse and one of his favorite tools. You could not tell him he was bad, if anything, he was just flawed or lost, and you were an asshole for not seeing that. For example, it is not that he committed bigamy he just got lost in a destination wedding and happened to say yes to a woman in a wedding dress. Till this day, I cannot believe he left a whole ass family, in secret, and booked a flight… WHOA! 

Support the show

check out my TikTok @daddyrecovery
YT/IG: @diandrareviewsitall


Read my truth at www.daddyrecovery.com

Follow me on all music platforms under Diandra and check out my newest single based off Daddy Recovery: Mr.H

Nerdy, fit, and gorgeous in an Aaron Taylor Johnson kind of way, he was the first hot man that I said, ¨You know what I deserve you!¨ He liked my personality, loved my body (even the flabby parts), and thought, somehow, together they equated beauty. It was terrifying and exhilarating. Finally I was getting what I always wanted, and I felt oddly threatened. It was like I had lived my entire life in a cave, and had decided that every morning I was going to wake up and push myself to see the sunrise. Yet, it was so hard to get up and see that bit of light without my entire body and mind telling me my cave was more comfortable because there was no way the sun would like me. I was stuck in admiring….imagining …. never receiving. 

Support the show

check out my TikTok @daddyrecovery
YT/IG: @diandrareviewsitall


Read my truth at www.daddyrecovery.com

Follow me on all music platforms under Diandra and check out my newest single based off Daddy Recovery: Mr.H

I want Daddy Recovery Sessions to be healing not in just the courage it takes to speak on my father´s abuse, but the greater courage it takes to bring accountability to MYSELF for how that abuse framed MY choices. When you take your power back, you have to see how you chose to continue the pattern of abuse on yourself, even when your abuser was long gone. I repeated the words he told me that made me hate my personality, my body, and sabotage any opportunity I had to be happier and financially wealthier. He made me believe I was nothing because he treated me like his bastard, and I continued choosing relationships with men that replicated the same energy of the ¨claimed unclaimed:¨ saying someone is your girlfriend while doing nothing for them as a boyfriend. Yet, that all stems from a belief that my father refuted but I HAVE to embrace: I am not my pain until I hand it to others. 

Support the show

check out my TikTok @daddyrecovery
YT/IG: @diandrareviewsitall


Read my truth at www.daddyrecovery.com

Follow me on all music platforms under Diandra and check out my newest single based off Daddy Recovery: Mr.H

There I was, happy to be on my my first set, completely manifested by my talent and determined positivity. Who cares that Adobe charged me 20 dollars for the app, which I do not own? I will fight for my reimbursement later. I could care less that I have no money to eat or that my dog’s separation anxiety got to a level of a husband demanding his wife stay at home and cook for him. I was where I wanted to be … where I was meant to be. That is why when the stylist, whispered announced  and grabbed her hips in disgust  that I had too much hips for a pretty face,” I ignored the former and took that latter.

Support the show

check out my TikTok @daddyrecovery
YT/IG: @diandrareviewsitall


Read my truth at www.daddyrecovery.com

Follow me on all music platforms under Diandra and check out my newest single based off Daddy Recovery: Mr.H

To my dad, pity was love, which is why he loved it when people pitied… it meant they cared and also forgot to ask him if it was reciprocal. Yet, I found the quality annoying on him. As we walked through the Basilica, he proceeded to talk about these mysterious, suicide attempts without mentioning who, what, where, and why. They were just his whale calls for pity, and I did not bite. Instead, I had a much darker thought, ¨Well, you did not succeed?¨

Support the show

check out my TikTok @daddyrecovery
YT/IG: @diandrareviewsitall


Read my truth at www.daddyrecovery.com

Follow me on all music platforms under Diandra and check out my newest single based off Daddy Recovery: Mr.H