Tryptophan Talk
Whether you’re celebrating Thanksgiving, Friendsgiving, or just another Thursday this time of year can be a mixed bag. We all have unconditional permission to take care of ourselves. Not just this holiday season, but every damn day. ‘Taking care’ can vary widely from person to person, moment to moment, and for me, taking good care of myself mostly involves rest and solitude to down regulate and recharge. What is your ‘take care’ vow to yourself this year? To leave Thanksgiving dinner early if Aunt Karen gets too drunk and starts making snarky comments? To opt out of conversations about politics or vaccines? To buy a store bought pie because your famous homemade pie is not within your labor + time capacity this year? To stay in and order Thai? Your vow to take care of yourself can be whatever you need in the moment. Do it - skip the thing you just can’t do. Disappoint others before abandoning yourself. I had a therapist that once said, “feel however the fuck you feel”. I repeat that to myself and others constantly. I had a mentor once emphasize, you always have permission to take care of yourself. These women taught me how to offer myself grace, grant myself unconditional permission to allow all the feelings and show up (or not) in the way I felt equipped.
And alas, the fomo is real. I don’t know about you but 90’s holiday movies sure gave me an unrealistic idea of what the holidays should look, feel, and sound like. Can you see it? Cut to: Interior shot, Thanksgiving. Sound of: silverware clinking, joyful conversation buzzing. Aerial shot of the table -- disjointed arms pass dishes of turkey, gravy, yams, green bean casserole, stuffing. An autumnal table runner, impressive centerpieces, fancy matching place settings, candlesticks. Kids shrieking with joy running around the table being chased by Max, the golden retriever (this was before there were goldendoodles).The Christmas tree is somehow already up, and so on and so forth. Idyllic holiday merriment. Expectations can lead to disappointment. Anything that falls short is a disappointment. And reality always falls short because unfortunately we don’t get to live in a 90’s movie. I am an adult child of divorce. Having to do every holiday twice is not what the 90’s promised. This year, Hanukkah falls on the Sunday after thanksgiving. Leftover turkey pairs well with potato latkes, right?
My friends from social work school threw a Friendsgiving. Quarantining made me (and everyone) forget how to be social and the anxiety of driving to a place I’d never been in the dark with people I hadn’t seen in a while felt overwhelming. Who even remembers how to have small talk? “So...how’s the weather at your new job?” I was out of practice. I skipped it. Negative self talk ensues, “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I show up to see people who I trudged through grad school with and I loved and respected?”
What I did on the night of Friendsgiving was have two of my closest girlfriends over and we hung out in my bed (tiny studio - no couch) and watched a Pixar movie. One friend brought her acupuncture cups and my other friend treated us to lovely doordash’d dinner. As host, my offering was my bed and my streaming platform. It was still Friendsgiving. It was just friends, giving. So, whether you snuggle in bed, go serve at soup kitchens, love your family, tolerate your family, are estranged from your family, or have no family left, I offer you unconditional permission to take care of yourself and offer yourself exactly what you need.
Besides, it’s only Thursday.