Happy Thanksgiving: aka “What the hell should I be grateful for?”

Thanksgiving. All the posts on social media have slowed their parade of warm fuzzy visages of happy families vulturing in and around the golden turkey carcass. Oh what? Aunt Daisy Dukes and Cousin Southern Belle have driven all the way from the Deep South to deliver this freshly baked pecan pie? Grandpa, Dad, and the boys are winding down their talk about the “There’s no terrible history nor sordid tales of outlaw cowboys slaughtering tribes of indians with smallpox blankets” Dallas Cowboys play the equally unoffensive Oakland ‘forcible entrance into another’s territory for the purpose of seizing goods or valuables through violence’ Raiders. Good call with the Thanksgiving Football Game this year, NFL. I’m just glad I don’t have to watch the Washington Redskins… those ignorant racists. Snoopy and Clifford the Big Red Dog’s handlers dreaded the brisk, cold winds forecast for today, but it’s over now… a tradition, and you just can’t say no to thousands of screaming children accompanied by stressed out parents with cash in their wallets. 

            Ah, Thanksgiving. It has turned into such a cynical holiday for me. Today puts front and center one of the most damaged facets of my life thanks to my mom’s suicide – the severed relationship I have with my family. In the beginning, I tried. But my efforts couldn’t weather the storm for long. Morale, and money, ran low. I was asked by Necessity to pick up a role I never, ever could imagine I’d have to play. And as much as I was asked, I gave. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t say yes. I couldn’t switch off the autopilot. I could write a book about these first few tumultuous years. (I might, if I ever get a moment of clarity).

            I’ve begun to build new, stronger, relationships. Forge a family. I’ll never get back the family I lost. It’ll never be normal again. Life will never get back to the way things were. People have told me, especially at support groups and awareness events, that these things can be repaired. I’ve also been told its okay if it never does. As long as i can be happy. 

I can’t get back to where I was before my mom’s suicide, but this depression will lift because I want it to. I want to be happy.

Happy Thanksgiving. 

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