Saturday, November 28, 2015
My whole life, my parents have hosted Thanksgiving. It's always hovered around 18 people, swelling to 30 at some points in the past. Thanksgiving has been, by far, my favorite holiday to celebrate with family because there are no gifts involved. It's simply family getting together to share a great meal together. Good food, sharing stories and memories, and an easy day for me to hide my eating patterns.
This year, though.... it was the first time in my life I wasn't with my family. I shouldn't really care much about that, considering how much my family drives me nuts 85% of the time. But it was really weird. And I didn't like it. I didn't like not being around everyone. I didn't miss the cursing and arguing that ensued. Nor did I miss the negative family members who always complain about being on the receiving end of hell. But I did miss the family.
Sure, we celebrated together on Friday, but it wasn't the same. It was just the immediate family. No aunts, uncles, cousins..... just us. And the food Friday was non-traditional. It was supposed to be a "leftover Thanksgiving" meal, but it morphed into leftovers, brunch, and Jewish delicacies. The meal was actually rather schizophrenic, and as my mom changed the menu a dozen or so times in 24 hours, I ended up without much to eat.
The odd thing about the whole event was the way it confused the heck out of me. When I was younger, I always wanted to be able to celebrate holidays with friends. Trick-or-treat with my best friends (was never able to do so, always had to stay with family,) or new years, or even enjoy Christmas Day with my Jewish friends. But none of that ever happened. I was always with my family (with the exception of NYE babysitting years). Somehow, that is what *felt* right, even though I didn't always want to be there.
So this year, I celebrated with my best friend and her family. I knew pretty much everyone in her family, and I always enjoy hanging out with them. It was a lovely evening, full of good food, good conversation, laughter, and relaxation. It was quite pleasant.
But when I got in the car, it hit. I spent the drive home alternating between tears and "I'm ok right now because" conversations in my head. Truth was, I really was ok. A great evening with great friends and great food? Heading home to a warm house in a safe neighborhood, driving a safe car that's paid off - all stuff that make things perfectly good. Perfectly all right.
Perfectly ok. Despite what my head thinks. That's where the confusion comes in.
So I guess I will remind myself that one of the things I am most thankful for is my treatment team - cause with their help, maybe one day I won't be as confused.....!