Post-Holiday Feelings

Thanksgiving is over. Carly is in Bowling Green, Will is back in Owensboro, and Sam is on a plane headed for New Brunswick, New Jersey. I never know if I'm more happy to see them headed back or to watch them walk in the door. I guess that's how it's suppose to be.

Gracie and I are trying to reclaim our space and our schedule. For now, she's pretty content chewing on a shoe Will left for her, but I'm fully aware that her contentment can change in a split second. I'm beginning to realize that's true for most things. Certainly was true for this holiday.

Carly was hurt beyond hurt by her dad. Sam's girlfriend broke up with him. Will couldn't find the corduroy pants he wanted in his size. I'm not sure any of their disappointments was completely unexpected, at least for me. Nonetheless, it shook their individual worlds.

But, for me, this Thanksgiving was different. It certainly had its ups and downs. A few days before I was telling Sam not to come, Carly's tuition had not been paid, and the anticipation of Jeff's next move made it rocky at best. Grace chewing a couple of screen doors was just an added touch. But, this year, I continued to eat, to take the medication properly, to walk my dog, to talk with my friends and my family. . . and for at least one, maybe even two, beautiful moments, I found the "sweet spot" on Thanksgiving Day.

On one single day, each of my children wrapped his or her arms around me. My parents smiled and maybe even looked a little bit younger this year. My dog walked with me confidently. I ate. . . . seconds. I enjoyed strawberry birthday cake. I decorated my uncle's tree with Carly. We paid our respects to my grandparents at the cemetery. I talked with Cathy on the phone. And, I knew, I mean I was completely present and aware that all of this was good stuff.

Everyone who was brave enough to walk with me through this past year, every experience that came to me, even those who walked before me, led me to this very tender, very sweet place. . . and I knew it was sweet. The knowing is everything.

So now everyone is back where they should be, and Gracie and I will gear up for our evening walk, our daily prayer of thanksgiving. Grace will acknowledge God's goodness as she sniffs in the grass, picks up sticks on the sidewalks, watches birds in the trees. I will acknowledge the same goodness as I simply put one foot in front of the other.

Season of Thanksgiving

Last year, I was coming to the realization, along with some help from family and friends, that my anorexia had come to the point that residential treatment was needed. It was not only destroying me, but my job, my family, my friends as well. Knowing that I was on my way to treatment, my caretakers gave in to the disorder the week of Thanksgiving and left me with it. I indulged in restricting, cutting, medicating, laxatives, you name it. I think they must have dug in that particular week with the one goal being to keep me alive and to deliver me in one piece to the Renfrew Center in Florida.

This Thanksgiving will be different and not only by 30 pounds. I will be present at the table, part of the conversation, posing for pictures, making jokes, hugging and touching my children, my parents, my cats and my dog. I may go to see a movie with Cathy, take Will shopping for pants that he needs, listen to Sam's woes over his girlfriend, Anna, fuss at Carly for a messy room. I may take a nap, sleepy from contentment not medication. Above all, I will be thankful. This Thanksgiving will be my 47th birthday. Numbers 45 and 46 have been infamously memorable. This one will probably be so boring that I might actually forgot what we did for Thanksgiving this year, and for that I am thankful.