All This Time I Was Finding Myself and I Didn't Know I Was Lost

Two years ago on Thanksgiving, I didn't really take time to reflect on what I was thankful for.  We went to dinner at my aunt's house.  I was disgruntled because my sister and her (at the time) fiance left for New York a day early and left me to suffer through the family dinner alone.  We had always gone to my grandfather's house for Thanksgiving, but he was too sick to host in 2012.  I left dinner early to head to the Outlets for - not one, but - two 8 hour shifts selling jeans and cardigans and statement necklaces to preteens and housewives and tourists alike.  Saturday morning, after the treacherous Black Friday from Hell, I literally took a car, a train, and a boat to spend the rest of the holiday with my boyfriend.  And I was thankful for that.

Last year, I wrote a blog post about how thankful I was (*and still am) for my brothers and sisters.  How we rally together and stand strong and how they've shown me what family truly is.  I was (*and still am) thankful for our relationships that could've easily been halved, but have instead flourished as full in the truest of ways.

This year, I am having a really hard time articulating what I'm grateful for, which actually sounds really freaking selfish.  Obviously I have things to be grateful for, after all, Instagram sent me huge reminders of that all weekend long...

But reading that quote over and over and over again got me to thinking.  What if there's not? What if the things I should be most thankful for are the things that I don't have.  And so, here is my list.  The first ever list of things I am thankful not to have this year:

I am thankful that I am not, in any way, disabled physically or mentally.  I have been blessed with a healthy body, a strong immune system, and a sound mind.  I have not combated a terminal illness. I have not been in fatal or life-threatening accident.  I have been blessed when others have not, and I thank God for that. 

I am thankful that I do not experience fear, anxiety, or insecurity when I think about where my next meal is coming from.  I am lucky enough to have food on the table consistently, more than I need, and more than I deserve. 

I am thankful that I do not have a doubt in my mind who has my back.  When I am scared or hurt or saddened or ecstatic, I do not have a second thought about who to call.  I do not wonder if my family will care, if my mom will attend to my question or call, or if my friends will be there when I need them.

I am thankful that I do not have you - you who pulled me down, who pulled me back, who held onto me too long without wanting me to stay.  You who changed my life, who taught me to love, and who taught me to walk away when the time was right.  You who let others opinions shape your life, my life, our lives together.  You who still brings tears to my eyes, a lump to my throat, and rock to the empty pit of my stomach.  While I would've loved to have had you, I am becoming thankful that I do not. 

Because I am not yet who I hope to become, and I am thankful for that.  I am thankful that I am not bound to who I was before now and that my growth is endless.  I am becoming the ideal Me.  The Me that doesn't need you.  The Me that stands alone, happy.

What I am most thankful for, that I do have, is time.  All of these things that I do and don't have are leading me on this journey to find myself, and I am grateful for the opportunity.  So many others are not blessed with the chance to find themselves. I have that chance and I want to hold onto it as long as I can - so I'm thankful that I'm not there yet. 

Good Cheer and Appreciation

Each year on a Thursday in November, at dining room tables across the country, families gather to share a meal and give thanks.  My family is no exception.  Each year we say grace and then circle the table asking each family member what they are thankful for.  This year, however, we got to dig into dinner a little sooner than in the past.  My grandfather, the matriarch of our family, passed away in July of this summer, and now everything is different.

The onset of my childhood was based around Sunday nights.  Some of my earliest memories include sitting three across the front seat of my mother's red car that whistled as we drove to my grandfather's house once a week for dinner.  My father would post up in our kitchen, watching television on a small eight-inch screen and bid us adieu as my mom packed my sister and I into the car for family dinner.  I'm not really sure why my dad didn't come.... or maybe he did come... the memories are hazy and blend all ages together; but I sure remember the feelings of love around the dinner table at Papa's house.  Thanksgiving was Papa's holiday.  All seven of his children would make the drive, bring their children, and help prepare a delicious meal.  He was King of the Krols and no one thought otherwise.  Since my grandfather's passing, my mother's family has been at odds.  That's what happens in fragile families.  If the anchor that held all ships at bay is lost, they are carried by wind and see in different directions.  This year, Thanksgiving dinner will be enjoyed my mother, my aunt, her husband, and myself.  A small, intimate gathering, still inundated by feelings of love.

What I am most thankful for this year is a hidden lesson that I have found in my grandfather's passing.  My mother, brother, and sisters are a beautiful exception to the rule.  I am one of six children born to my father, but only one of two born to my mother; thus, the four eldest of my family are my half siblings, but I whole love them.  When my father passed away, it was truly a tragedy.  He lost his battle to lung cancer five days before Christmas 1999.  What I have learned in the fourteen years since my father's passing, however, is that my siblings had the option to run.  My dad was the anchor that kept my family at bay.  He was our common thread, our home base, and our gravitational pull.  Without him there, what glue did we have to hold us together?  To this day, I am not sure.  I was seven at the time that we lost my father, and from that point forward it never occurred to me that my sisters and brother could have stepped out of my life forever; that my mother could have decided not to love them as her own, not to see my nieces and nephews as her grandchildren....but luckily for me, that was not the case.  My family loves harder, deeper, and with more vigor than any family I have ever known.  It isn't about having a shared relative or a thoroughbred blood line that makes two people family; it is love.  It is values.  It is knowing that losing that other person would be losing a part of yourself.  At seven years old, I was not old enough to know who I loved, but I knew who loved me.  I am so beyond lucky to have been born into the family that I have. I have an incredible, awe-inspiring mother, three beautiful sisters, and a strong, handsome brother that care about me more than words can say, and for that I am undoubtedly eternally grateful.

I pray for those who are not surrounded by the same love and affection that I have had the fortune of indulging in over my last 21 years on this earth.  As for those who are as fortunate, I pray that they take that luck and transform it into good cheer and appreciation for our world and the people who create it.