Hey lovelies…

A week out from Thanksgiving. Yikes.

Every time I would notice the date this week, it seemed to ratchet up my anxiety, each second pushing me closer to the familial battlefield of Turkey Day.

It was on one such anxiety-ridden night that Anna came over, our shared dread pulling us together like magnets.

We sat in my apartment – roommate blessedly absent. I had unfurled two yoga mats on the living room floor, the soft hum of a meditation playlist wafting through the air.

The idea was to wrestle Anna into some semblance of yoga poses, a quest met with much giggling and good-natured complaints from her side. As I gently nudged her limbs into a downward dog, the conversation steered towards the approaching holiday.

Our laughter and light-hearted chat slowly melted into a serious discussion about the consequences of our budding plan.

The potential fallout from our families loomed over us. We would be breaking traditions, unhinging expectations, and sending a crystal-clear message of autonomy to our families. We knew it wouldn’t be met with open arms or understanding nods.

No one skips Thanksgiving and gets away with it.

In between the stretching and laughing, we laid out the pros and cons on the table. We didn’t need to say it out loud, but we knew: we had made our choice.

Done with yoga for the time being, I grabbed us both a ice water to cool down with.

Sitting silently, both of us felt it — the colossal task of informing our families of our decision. Anna’s fingers drummed a nervous rhythm on her glass while I fidgeted with a loose thread on my cushion. Akward.

Then, as if on cue, Anna blurted out, “Dare you to text your mom right now and break the news.”

I was caught off guard. “Are you serious? Right this second?”

She smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. “Scared?”

I wanted to match her moxie, she’s so contagious. “Only if you do it too,” I said half-laughing.

There was a silent stand-off , our eyes locked, searching for signs of hesitation. But the weight of it all collapsed on us, and we both burst into laughter.

“What if we swap phones?” Anna suggested, her eyebrows raised in challenge. “I’ll type out the message for your mom, and you do mine. Deal?”

It was a ridiculous plan, something schoolgirls would do, but in its absurdity there was some comfort. And perhaps, a touch of plausible deniability.

“Alright, but be nice,” I said, handing over my phone, while she passed me hers with a cheeky grin.

As our fingers danced on each other’s screens, there were giggles, a couple of false starts, and even a few playful jabs.

“Nope, you can’t use that emoji,” Anna cautioned, peeking at my screen. “My mom will think I’m being sarcastic.”

Minutes felt like hours, but finally, with one last glance at each other for reassurance, we hit ‘send’ simultaneously.

Two messages flew towards our families, and no doubt explanations and grief and guilt trips.

But in the gap of time before any replies came, in, it felt amazing.

Hell, my family was told I wasn’t coming home for Thanksgiving and I didn’t even need to be the one to do it. Anna’s my rock.

We were in this together. And as the replies from our moms began to beep and twinkle on our phones, we knew we had each other’s backs, come what may.

K.

Hey fam

Sorry for that downer of a post last time. This autumn has been going great, seeing lots of friends, and Anna but realizing Thanksgiving was basically right around the corner, up really hit me.

But good news, Anna and I met for a coffee catch-up earlier tonight. It’s so cozy hanging with her, no matter where we end up.

I told her how much I wasn’t looking forward to Thanksgiving.

Anna’s response really settled me … she feels the same way about seeing her family…See, she’s got her own storm brewing – her family unfairly laying the blame of her divorce at her feet, as if the end of her marriage was a one-woman show.

That nagging dread that had been hanging over me like a cloud started to back off, making space for a bit of calm in that shared moment.

We talked, like really talked. About all those heavy expectations, the letdown from the people who should have had our backs. I let out all my frustrations about the silent, and not so silent, judgments for bailing on grad school, for choosing a path that strayed from the family plan.

Anna dished her hurt, the cold shoulders, the low-key digs about her divorce, as though she installed Tinder on her husband’s phone for him.

We didn’t really resolve anything. Didn’t find the magic key to lock up our families’ expectations and judgments. But it was nice to share this with Anna. We shared some cringe stories from previous years’ family get-togethers and laughed at each other’s suffering.  It felt freeing.

And Anna’s laugh? Totally catchy. Her spirit, holding strong despite her battles, lit up my night.

(Back — just had to yell at my roommate to clean up his mess for once, ffs)

Anna and I swapped tales from past holidays. The insane comments from out-of-touch aunts, the overcooked turkeys resulting in impromptu pizza meals, the accidental revelations of family secrets, each anecdote adding a hue of humor and perspective to our chat. It’s like we were weaving together the past and present, a reminder that we had survived those moments, and this upcoming one wouldn’t be any different. Maybe 2023 would just be another year to laugh about, down the road.

As much as I couldn’t shake my own personal dread…poor Anna.

Anna really opened up, about her anxieties about the whispers, the pitying glances,, the uninvited opinions on her personal life. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down at the swirl of chaos below.

But as we talked, we both started to feel a bit better – we were in this together.

We played out the worst and best-case scenarios. There’s something liberating in sharing your fears,, especially with someone non-judgey, who probably shares similar fears.

We might not have the perfect map for the journey ahead, but we had something better – our friendship, someone to share the bumps with, the rude family questions, and the just wanting the holiday to be over.

When we were settling up the bill, a plan sort of developed spontaneously…

What if we just said no?

No to the family dinners steeped in judgment and unsolicited advice. No to the polite nods at uninvited opinions about our lives. And for Anna, no questions about, any more word on the reasons her husband left her?

What if we chose to celebrate the holiday our way, free from expectations and judgment.

What if we did it our way – said no it all. And found our own way to redefine Thanksgiving. To hell with family traditions, this year.

And you know what? It felt just right.

K.

Hey y’all…

November almost halfway done, winter’s knocking on the door and, man oh man, that old, familiar cloud of dread is rolling in with it.

Thanksgiving is rounding the corner, like an unwanted avalanche of snow, aiming to knock me over with reminders of family get-togethers and all that judgment.

I spent most of the day writing for work — getting some good stuff done. Dreading family visits can be a great motivation to clear the to-do list, apparently.

I’m aching for freedom this holiday season. Freedom from expectations, from the judgment-laden questions about my abandoned grad school journey and my “unconventional” career choice as an online writer.

I can already hear the questions brewing a storm in my mind: “Kelly, when are you going back to school?” “Why this job?” As much as I love the gig, it’s like I can never dodge those questions from aunts and uncles, cousins, and grandparents.

It sounds corny but I’m dreaming of a Thanksgiving redefined.

A holiday where I’m not boxed into traditional family expectations, where I don’t have to dodge awkward questions, shield myself from judgment, or navigate tense conversations.

How will I even handle the traditional family Thanksgiving this year? It’s always been awkward but, since I moved further away, its gotten way worse.

For me, Thanksgiving, with all its trimmings, still fills me with anxiety. The pressure to conform, the judgment wrapped in smiles and the awkward dance around topics I’d rather leave untouched – it’s all there, waiting to be served up on a silver platter along with the turkey and cranberry sauce.

I’m wrapping up for the night.

K.