As Thanksgiving approaches, my memories turn to times that, on the balance, were pretty stressful and unhappy. There were a few good things here and there, but most of my memories around this time of year involved my mother taking me and my brother to her parents’ house, separated from our father… and we would spend hours there, waiting for food, sometimes hungry, often bored… sometimes there would be fighting amongst the adults, always tension…

I would love to be able to go to that scene and enjoy it with people who were kind, caring, loved me and each other, and had that simple contentment of spending time with loved ones–you know, the scene trotted out by every damn Christmas special out there–but the reality is that most people don’t appear to like their families very much… there’s stress and tension and frustration and old wounds and humiliations and anger and sorrow… we’re supposed to be eating turkey, not bathing in cortisol!

The problem is that people want to sweep all of that under the rug… but then it never gets dealt with. Ever try to be honest in a setting where conformity to the fucking Hallmark card is the rule? It’s devastating, and you stuff your face because there’s nothing else to do–unless you want to get into a shouting match with somebody.

This year, I am alone. I tried inviting people but no such luck this time–perhaps next year will be different in this way.

I have no desire to get together with people for the sake of getting together with them… if holidays are meant to be about togetherness, then I will make them be about togetherness. If there isn’t anyone I can currently be together with, then I will be together with myself at least.

Incidentally, I do believe this is the first year that I can honestly say I am together with myself.

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