Thanksgiving Break

Dear Family,

I can’t make it to Thanksgiving this year.  I can’t even come up with a reasonable excuse for why . . . I guess I'm supposed to tell you that I have to work this year?  Or maybe I should tell you that I can’t find anyone to keep my dog?  Neither of those things are true.  I don't have to work and I do have a pet sitter; I don’t have any excuses for not coming.  I can’t make it to Thanksgiving because I can’t.  I’m so, so sorry.  I’m not trying to punish anyone or prove a point.  I just don’t have it in me this year. 

The summer before last, Dad made a hasty (and hurtful) exit from our family. For several months, all any of us could talk about was Dad’s new girlfriend, Dad’s credit card bills, Dad’s ridiculous car payment, Dad’s more ridiculous claim for spousal maintenance,  Dad’s unemployment, Dad’s stupidity, Dad’s immorality, Dad’s insanity.  But once the shock wore off and the divorce negotiations were mostly finalized, our thoughts turned to the holidays.  We fretted and plotted and planned and decided that no more holidays should be spent at home.  Ever.  We planned elaborate (and expensive) trips away.  The strategy was to create so many new memories and experiences that no one would notice Dad’s absence.  If we just traveled often enough, maybe we wouldn’t miss our Dad?  Maybe we could even forget that we ever had a dad? 

As crazy as it sounds, it almost worked.  We spent an entire year coordinating plane reservations and rental car options and hotel locations.  There were group trips to Disney World, the State Fair of Texas, New Orleans, SxSW, Park City, Utah, and Montego Bay.  I traveled home at least one weekend a month (sometimes two) for minor events and milestones alike.  I spent countless hours of planning and coordinating the trips, packing and getting ready to leave, making the trip, coming home, unpacking.  After each trip, we’d exchange hundreds of digital pictures and then engage in heated debates about whether we had a single picture that could be used on the family Christmas card to convince everyone we know that we are just fine, thankyouverymuch.  It was like running marathon.  Run far and run fast . . . and don’t stop until you’re so far away that you can’t remember where you started.  And never, ever look back. 

After a year of running full steam ahead, I’m exhausted.  I can’t make another trip right now.  It isn’t the traveling that wears me out—I actually enjoy traveling.  It’s the pretending that’s killing me. Sometimes, we pretend that we never had a dad.  Most of the time, though, we pretend that Dad was the shittiest human being in the world.  (To be fair, Dad really might have been the shittiest husband in the world.)  We pretend it doesn’t bother us when Mom recounts the story of how Dad left her to every flight attendant, rental car agent, and tour guide.  We pretend that Dad’s girlfriend is evil.  We pretend that Mom’s boyfriend is a godsend.  We pretend that our baby brother is doing okay, and we ignore his profound loneliness.  We pretend that one of our parents is incapable of making a good decision.  We pretend that our other parent is incapable of making a bad one.  We pretend not to mind that Mom can’t maintain eye contact or a conversation because she’s working her iPhone like a 15  year-old girl.  We pretend not to notice our our baby brother storming off (and slamming doors) when Mom’s new boyfriend calls.  We pretend that it’s okay that Dad signed away his parental rights.  We pretend it’s okay that Mom paid him for that.  We pretend that we aren’t hurting.  We pretend that we don’t miss our Dad.  We pretend that our family isn’t broken. 

We are broken, each of us in our own way.  And all of that pretending otherwise has left me depleted, exhausted.  I feel like a nub of a human being . . . worn down emotionally to nothing but my base.  I have no more reserves.  I have nothing to give.  And I simply cannot stomach two more days of pretending right now.  So, I’ve decided to stay home for Thanksgiving.  I hope you can forgive me.  Over time, I’ve no doubt that we’ll develop a new sense of family identity.  I’m counting on that.  But this year, I'm going to need to take a break.

Sincerely,

SEE