Thanksgiving is a living hell.
Food. Everywhere, all day long. Endless talk of food, thoughts of food, an eating disordered nightmare.
Thanksgiving is about family and togetherness…but the food takes center stage. When I was in the height of my eating disorder wanted to crawl under the table, pop in some earplugs and hide.
I recall thinking everyone was watching what I was eating. In reality they could have cared less, they were too busy enjoying themselves.
I recall watching others enjoy their food, eyes lit up with excitement when the huge, glistening brown turkey finally landed on the table. As their mouths watered, mine dried up as I calculated the fat grams in my head.
That was then, and this is now.
I spent Thanksgiving first with my parents, for brunch at the house I grew up in. Grandma whipped up the usually 14 course meal. We grazed as we talked, eating accompanying our lively discussion.
We headed back home in the late afternoon to spend our first Thanksgiving “as a family,” just the four of us; my husband, and two children. We had beef roast, and pasta, and garlic bread…and homemade apple pie. Our “traditional” favorites since we had no one else to please.
It’s the little things.
I hope and I pray that one day you to will join me here on the other side.
Where life is about living.
And eating is an afterthought.