This Thanksgiving, I seemed to hit a new low. I was just hating the fact that once again, another holiday would pass where I wouldn’t get to see my own family. (Didn’t matter that logistically it’s challenging, not to mention damn expensive, for my own family to get together, given that my nearest relative is about 1,000 miles away.) The worst moment came when I realized I’m not sure if I can remember what my parents sounded like. After all, they have been gone for 14 years.
I don’t really care for this holiday. I can pretty much take or leave the traditional Thanksgiving food, and it just seemed like a burden to have to endure yet another holiday meal, table loaded down with food I don’t really like, while missing my own nutty family all the while. I just couldn’t take it, and I was teary-eyed a lot. The thought of another holiday hot on our heels wasn’t too thrilling either, since there are no surprises and it’s really rather lame.
Wah, wah, wah. I just felt like a complete failure. Really?! 14 years and still having trouble coping? What the hell. I felt like an ungrateful, whiny bitch and couldn’t seem to pull myself out of it. I’m not sure when the pivotal moment came, but somewhere in all that wallowing around in self-pity, I realized I could either be miserable or be happy.
I choose happy.
I’m still not sure how I’m going to pull it off, but the grey miserable shit seemed to lift. This year, when I put up the tree, it will be for me. I like my collection of little wooden German-style ornaments, and I’ve always liked the mini lights. This year, when I buy all the gifts, I will give them gladly without any expectations. It’s time to stop feeling all put-upon – to just stop.
Peace on earth begins with peace in our souls, so I say let’s go.