I had big plans for Thanksgiving this year. A big trip planned to travel home to see my family. Home…a place of comfort, and laughter, and stories, and memories, and hugs, and tears. A place where you belong. A place where you can just be.
But things didn’t work out. The weather didn’t look like it would cooperate, the kids both had school activities, my migraines started up again probably from stress, my car started acting up, and even though I took the week off, I couldn’t get anything checked off my to-do list. Anything that could go wrong did.
I often say that things will work out like they are supposed to, but I’m failing to see right now that any of this is a good thing. I’m homesick. I miss my family. I miss belonging to something. I miss having a purpose.
My kids are teenagers and no longer want to hang out with mom. So, here I am on the eve of Thanksgiving feeling very much like a failure. Unable to connect with my kids on any level, unable to peel myself off the couch to accomplish anything, battling deep depression from events of years past, and unable to reach out to anyone for fear of being a burden. So I sit here alone. Depressed, lonely and alone.
Social media is a place to avoid generally everyday, but especially now because it’s filled with photos and happy wishes of those celebrating special milestones or of those spending time with their families and friends. I wonder…does anybody ever think about me? Does anyone ever wonder if I’m okay? Does anybody care?
So this Thanksgiving will pass as just another day of the year. Maybe we’ll see some friends, maybe we’ll share some laughs, but mostly it will be just another day.
Learning to be Ruth 