Sunday, November 21, 2010

Just when you thought it was safe to go into the kitchen...

Here we are again. Thanksgiving. Around the corner, Christmas or Hanukah or Kwanza or some other feast lies in wait, ready to make you feel like a little kid again (and not necessarily in the good way). I've stopped celebrating with my family. After the years of conflicting messages (I made this stuffing because you love it. Should you really be eating that much?), I decided to make Thanksgiving my own.

After starting the work of self acceptance and self love, it just became impossible to enjoy a celebratory meal with people who wanted me to keep joining in the chorus of their favorite holiday song (to the tune of Jingle Bells):

I'm so fat
I'm so fat
I can't stand my thighs
You could stand to lose a few
Please pass the pumpkin pie...

A few years ago, my husband and I started the tradition of an orphans' Thanksgiving - not hard to do in the Bay Area, where so many people are transplanted. At the first Thanksgiving without family, I felt liberated. We consciously threw out any "shoulds" that would make the holiday feel like work. We told our friends to bring their favorite Thanksgiving dishes. We bought a smoked turkey, not knowing it would be the best one we'd ever had.

I made my personal favorites, a corn casserole - the recipe taught to me by my old roommate's Southern mom. It's one of those crazy, easy, cheesy yummy recipes - a can of corn (Trader Joes' is sweet and crispy), a can of creamed corn, a bag of shredded cheddar cheese, a jar of pimentos, a half a sheath of crushed saltine crackers, a slightly beaten egg to hold it together and a blob of sour cream for a little extra tang. Mix everything together, reserving some cheese to sprinkle on top. Cook at 325, or 350 or 375 till the cheese on top is bubbly and golden. Yum.

My friend, Shauna, brought her favorite - yams with marshmallows. My friend Shawn brought an old staple from his family's table, cottage cheese (I know, weird, but hey, that was Thanksgiving for him!). Laura brought apple pie with the only crust I've ever liked. And my husband grilled marinated veggies on our barbecue in the rain. It was all so good. But looking back, what I remember most is the ease and comfort, the complete absence of pressure, guilt or remorse about eating. I remember that we laughed a lot that night, a string of Martha Stewart jokes, building on each other.

And I still feel thankful - thankful for the many friends who've taught me that love really can be without condition, without criticism, without body-baggage. I'm thankful for the freedom I've created, from the tyranny of my own inner critic who almost never pops up these days (and even when she does, I know now that she is probably feeling afraid and needs me to soothe her).

And this year, when my mom said, "You could come to our house for Thanksgiving," I was grateful that I have learned to lovingly decline.

What boundaries are you grateful for this year? Are their new ones you'd like to be grateful for in the years to come? What would make this holiday season one that feeds and sustains you without guilt or drama? What do you need in order to give yourself permission to have true joy and peace through the holidays?