Happy Wanksgiving (Part 2)

Thanksgiving_Owls_by_Buuya

Last year, I was having a rough time during Thanksgiving. I had gotten divorced that year. I felt let down by a bunch of people I’d had expectations of. So I dubbed it Wanksgiving. But I ended up having a swell time by myself, doing what artists do. I wrote. So here’s Wanksgiving, Part I.

This year, I have even more to be grateful for than I did last year. I’ve learned a lot through constantly making mistakes. I’ve decided that’s what life is, in a way. Constantly making mistakes.

I’ve met a ton of genuine thoughtful people, and become more conscious of those who aren’t, though I still tolerate them, to an extent.

This morning, I had a conversation with my mom, who is a force to be reckoned with herself. We talked about being single-mindedly focused on our careers, keeping in mind family and close friends, not letting anyone who doesn’t know us well tear us down.

I’m grateful this year for all the artists who taught me lessons about myself. For all of the people who have been mirrors to me. For resilience. For people like my friend Wendy, who wrote me the most thoughtful letter I’ve ever received while struggling with her own demons, demons I’ve struggled with myself and at the time, never thought I’d get through.

We do most of our battles silently, without anyone giving us a pat on the back for our struggles. I’m grateful this blog helped one or two people over the past year.

I don’t know what else to say. A few of my friends are having a really rough time this year. Divorce, car troubles, failure. There’s so much expectation during the holidays, and if things don’t go as planned, it can cause this downward spiral that lasts until New Years. I’m just grateful I have a family that lets me be myself.

I had a strange dream last night about a guy I was hanging out with this year. I was eating butternut squash with his mom and he was telling me “his tramps” had warned him not to hang out with me. My mom was liberal about butternut squash, his mom was determined to make it for us, wouldn’t let us have free agency over how we cooked it.

I may not have had a traditional American family, with doting parents and all the material accoutrements my friends had, but I had enough. I was able to be myself in my family, and that’s more than a lot of people had. Maybe all I ever needed besides basic food, clothing and shelter.

I’m grateful I have so many artist friends to consort with, family to visit. I’m not married and don’t have a “special someone,” (not for lack of people wanting to be my special someone, but for dogged persistence at holding off to take care of myself for now) but I am grateful for that lack of pressure. I’m grateful for my art, and that for now, I’m able to have freedom and autonomy I didn’t have in my twenties, that I kept fighting for it until it became a reality.

Much love to all of you readers. xoxo.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *