Tofurkey For One

I don't know how to hate this day without alienating everyone I love.
Because I know people care, but fundamentally so few know exactly what face.  I have no family.  And yup, no. No person off somewhere who loves me healthily and unconditionally, no room where I could live temporarily should things fall apart, no one who knew me as a child to see how far I've come.

And I know I have friends that I adore whom I know love me too....but where are they tonight?  A chosen family doesn't quite count as much when it's your second choice.
And I hate it because today is just a Thursday. I shouldn't have to go home after a great day at work and cry myself to sleep. I shouldn't wish that someone invited me to spend the day with their family, I shouldn't be hurt that a friend canceled our last minute plans for the night. I should just be able to go home and sleep soundly.

And yet I'm surrounded by hundreds of people asking when I'm going to go see me family, reminding me over and over again that I don't get to have words like "family" and "home."  Of the years in school when I watched everyone I know or lived around leave and go to those that love and cherish them as I stayed behind to work....and also because I didn't have anywhere to go (nor the capability of going).

And it sucks because even now, I know others who can't buy plane tickets or take off work and still I feel isolated because they still have their families. I love those that I love but I live in constant fear of losing them. And I become jaded in my lonely existence, frustrated with those who try to understand because I know they never can.

And I'm more okay with that now than I've ever been. I love who I am, what I've conquered ob my own and I don't wish for it any other way.

But as much as I love my life... I wish I could go home to mashed potatoes and green bean casseroles and cranberry sauce and vegetarian stuffing someone made for me, and be surrounded by people who've known me and loved me for my whole life.

And that's not something that I'll ever have.

And every year this is a reminder of that.
Sure, last year I was in the hospital from the pain the food brought me and I'm not enduring that this year and that's something to be grateful for..... but let's face it: today isn't about gratitude or Columbus or even America. It's about turkey and football and family.

And if your dinner is missing any of the above, you are told to feel that your night is incomplete.

I refer to it as societally prescribed loneliness.

Side effect include tears, plenty of wine consumption, and feeling like you can't reach out to those you're close to because you know they're off being happy and you don't want to burden them with your grief.

So I fight. Every year. To try to remember that today is just any other day of the week.  That I'm still loved and not lost.
And that my evening alone is still enough.