Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving. The day when everyone stops what they’re doing in order to be with and love on the people who matter to them. Of course I spent it alone. I don’t get to choose how I spend holidays, but at least now I get to choose how I don’t spend it. As in I don’t have to deal with playing loving and happy to people who don’t give a shit about me, or put food on my plate that disgusts me all the while people comment on and judge that plate, or even travel for hours with this delicate body. But that leaves me alone. I know there were two households who would have taken me in had I asked, but, I didn’t want to ask. There is a very real difference between a group of good people saying ‘yes’ when you ask if you can join their activity, and being part of said group in a way that they want you and make sure your included. I have been taught that I am always an inconvenience and annoyance. I know better than to ask people to spend time with me. But I do very much want to be wanted. If we buy into the whole seven types of love language thing, then I give love through acts of service and receive love through quality time. I can’t go around asking people to give me that love – it needs to be freely given, not taken.

I feel pathetic for feeling this way. I was in my own home, with heat, and with food I can eat. That’s so much more than many others have. My history is such that I marvel at not being homeless and totally alone. And yet that’s not enough. I want a family or a community; I want to be part of good people.

I spent Thanksgiving and the following day medicated to sleep, hoping that would make me avoid the pity-party that has come anyway. Now just to get through the entire season that has begun.