For those of you who don’t live in the land of maple syrup and hockey, today is Canadian Thanksgiving.
Isn’t it strange how holidays have become an excuse for EVERY HUMAN ON THE PLANET to have an eating disorder for a day? Every holiday has become about binging . . . to the point where nobody really remembers what they’re about. Think about it:
New Years Eve: Binge drinking
Valentine’s Day: Chocolate coma
St. Patrick’s Day: Binge drinking
Canada Day/Independence Day: Drinking and bbq overindulgence
Thanksgiving: Bingeing to the point of explosion, as though it’s the last food on earth.
Halloween: Begging strangers for food, hoarding it, and bingeing
Birthdays (this is where mine falls in the year): Telling people we’re glad they were born by presenting them with a cake
Christmas: Another “last food on earth” meal, and a sock full of food (and toys) left by a stranger
Don’t even get me started on the Jewish holidays . . . namely because I’m not as familiar with them, but pretty sure there’s a lot of fasting, bingeing, and strange food combinations there as well. A very eating disordered religion. (Although, having been raised Christian, teaching children that bread and wine can turn into human flesh and blood can lead to a pretty fucked up relationship with food, too)
So, in an effort to get back to what the holidays are REALLY about (while sitting alone in my apartment, ignoring the fact that there is a holiday), here is my “Thankful” list (abbreviated – you don’t need to know EVERYTHING about me).
I am thankful for my friends and family who have stuck by me through everything, because they are my reason for existing.
I am thankful for those who didn’t stick around, because they taught me that, even though people may leave you, it won’t kill you outright.
I’m VERY grateful to have found a therapist who is brilliant and kind, who is there whenever I need her (even when I’m being an asshole), and gives me hope that there is something better possible.
And (this is going to sound very strange, but bear with me) I’m grateful in a fucked up way for my eating disorder.
My eating disorder is an outward expression of all that is fucked up inside me. Everybody has a little “fucked up” inside them, and most people just learn to live with it. You can medicate away a lot of the pain, and live a reasonably comfortable life without ever dealing with what made you that way. Because I will die if I don’t deal with my fucked-uppedness, I have been given a rare opportunity to figure out my shit and try for a better life. If depression or a pot-smoking habit was the manifestation of my issues, I could probably survive, just borderline miserable. Having no choice but to deal with my problems, someday I can hope to be free of them, or at least not let them affect me.
And, having had a vacation home in hell, I can see beauty in smaller things, because everything seems so much better in contrast.
So there’s what I’m thankful for, and I can consider myself having celebrated Thanksgiving. I don’t need a fancy feast to make me grateful. I’m grateful NOT to be partaking in that . . .