Two days of Thanksgiving. Two. Just in case I was in danger of withering up and blowing away—weight wise. Disaster averted. I wasn’t in that danger, unfortunately, but disaster adverted nonetheless. What a relief. I feel so much more whole now that my pants are more snug and by belly hangs over the button. Life is complete and fulfilled. Oh, wait… Food doesn’t equal love? Are you sure? I think you might be misinformed. Food never promised love and then ran away. Never told me it loved me more than anything in the world only to disappear. Trust me. It sticks around. I have plenty of fucking hot Lucky Jeans I can’t get into anymore to prove it. I’m pretty sure food knows more about love than people do.
It was the first ‘holiday’ with Gavin. He was the reason we had two days of Thanksgiving, as he wasn’t with us the first part of Thursday. Dad put up the tree and the baby liked to look at the lights. I’m excited for a year to two to pass (not in a rush, I don’t want him to grow quickly) so that he will be excited for gifts and the tree and all the Christmas stuff. I’ve never really gotten to experience that since I was a child myself. It will be fun. It really is amazing how wonderful he is. I know he’s not mine, but he probably will be the closest I’ll ever have. Holding him is one of the few times when I can actually get past myself and simply marvel at the life in my arms. To make the holiday about him instead of completely focusing what my holidays had become, even if he is too young to even be aware that the day has any special connotations at all.
Mom could see I was really struggling (what else is new?) and gently reminded me that I need to move on. To me, I feel like I am moving on, sorta. I’m still going. I’m still waking up and moving and talking to people sometimes. That’s moving. I’m not stationary in a little ball in the corner like I would like to be.
I made the decision to not put up the tree. And other than some guilt around not having the house pretty for my friends for Christmas dinner and feeling like I’m not doing what I ‘should,’ the relief of the decision is huge. I hadn’t realized how much the thought and worry of putting up, living with, and taking down the tree had been weighing on me. So, whether it is wussing out and letting my state-of-being dictate my state-of-being or whatever, I have an ounce more freedom than I did before.
On a positive note, differing plot lines have been drifting in and out of my head for where the fantasy series may end up going. Still no definitives yet, but it’s a good omen. This typically happens for a bit before the writing begins in earnest, so maybe, just maybe, I will be able to escape into my created worlds and produce something creative, useful, and productive.