Hell of a way to start a Thanksgiving blog ain't it? Let's get this straight upfront, I recognize and count my blessings. I am a well blessed woman. Thank You God. And God bless Us everyone.
We got back Sunday evening from a 1082 mile round trip..trip. We visited Mentor Mary and Heart Surgery Friends. Mark attended a CLE course (free). I shopped at Wally World. The dog moped.
On Monday I did laundry and cleaned house. I then spent three hours at an evening church committee meeting. Tuesday I spent three hours at another church (morning) meeting and then shopped for groceries and made a pie. Today I am supposed to be cooking for Thanksgiving. And you know what? I ain't a gonna do it. I'll cook the damn dinner on Friday. Thank God we are invited out tomorrow. I just need to make another pie.
I couldn't sleep last noc. I was attacked by my mind. Racing thoughts, twitching, sweating, the whole nine yards. I got up...and ate the pie I now have to replace. A whole pie. Amazing. Then came the backlash. I was plagued by visions of plunging knives into my bulging flesh. In an effort to right myself I decided to pace the deck. (Was freezing cold out there in my nightgown and robe I might add.) I also gave my craving a voice. Whoa Nellie.
Ever seen a two year old's temper tantrum? That is what came out of me. I hollered (quietly) for fifteen minutes. Much of it consisted of sobbing "I want it" and "Now." Eventually I was totally spent. Then I noticed the quiet, and the stars. Cold crisp wonder. The Big Dipper and Orion's Belt and the Milky way were there for the touching. I was at peace. And filled with gratitude. And I no longer wanted to eat, ever.
What did I learn? 1) I am tired. Having seventeen bodies to dinner one week and then going 1000 miles a week later was TOO MUCH. I do not adapt that quickly anymore. May hap I never did. 2) Sitting in front of the television to relax and rest up only makes me feel worse. 3) Movement makes me feel better. 4) Giving the craving a voice may be a useful tool in the future. 5) I am afraid the dog will want to get up at 1pm every morning and go for a walk.
I know this is a weird Holiday post but I had to let off more steam. Thanks for reading.
Happy Thanksgiving. Love Lynn
6 comments:
I was afraid you were going to say that somehow you found yourself inviting 40 people over for dinner. . .glad you get to go out - have a very happy thanksgiving.
Were the "holidays" particularly traumatizing as a child?
Some memories can last a lifetime. Holidays are built up as such a pure/joyous/family time by the media and merchants. Happier times=spend, spend, spend. But, I'll bet if you ask most people, their most painful memories are of holiday gatherings.
God Bless.
I'm thinking a LOT about the holidays this year. I always do but in a different sort of way.
When I'm depressed I'm more apt to be very tired all the time. I have to mete out my energy. Life continues to happen whether it's Thanksgiving or Kingdom Come. There is a need for clean underwear. I still want milk in my coffee. I don't understand the email I got from my credit card company & need to call them.
On top of that is all the hoopla.
So whether you're depressed (& a LOT of people are this time of year), or tired (& you have every right to claim being tired), you ate a pie.
What's in a pie? Well, it's what you made to take & share. Maybe deep down you didn't much want to make, take & share. Maybe you wanted the best (or one of the best) parts of the holiday all to yourself.
& you got it. You got the stars, honey! You got time alone. You felt your feelings. You were touched by God.
It was a round-about-way of getting the holiday to yourself, but you did it.
BTW: Why is it we're supposed to be so merry, so thankful? The Pilgrims, who didn't believe in dancing, were f-----g starving; the Indians were getting pushed out of their lands. You always see Mary praying over the manger -- ha! She was more likely bent over the manger in horrible cramps, freezing in that shed, while Joseph hoped some Indians would come along with a pumpkin pie to feed his wife so she could suckle the baby he had to go on the stress of blind faith for.
So I think there's no oxymoron in being cranky for the holidays. I'll bet the originators were plenty cranky.
love, frances
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