Happy Thanksgiving, the Celebration of the American Hearth

by Irene Daniel

I love Thanksgiving. It's my favorite holiday because it is about good food to be shared with family and friends. It is, for me, an authentic celebration of the American hearth, a gathering around. And as we gather around, we eat, drink and laugh and love. It's just the best. Plus, my house gets to smell like my mom's special stuffing. And then, there's pumpkin pie. No gifts, no financial meltdowns. Just food and love. What could be better than that?

On this Thanksgiving Eve, as I prepare my home and my bird for tomorrow's buttery and delicious meal, my mind and heart drift elsewhere from time to time. I remember and I dream, for I still have an American Dream that remains unfulfilled -- my novel. And I am thinking of a special friend who is very ill tonight; he doesn't want to live anymore.

I know that feeling, all too well. Perhaps too many of us do. And that is why this year, I am especially grateful for my somewhat restored mental health. And that's no joke. I can't say that I'm almost back to my old self again because I don't want to go back to my old self. My old self was very ill and didn't know how to ask for help, and so became sicker and sicker; delving into a darkness that often hangs over those of us who suffer from chronic depression and anxiety. I basically broke down after my mother died, barely able to care for myself and my dog. Some days, that was the best I could do. Some days, it's still like that, albeit less often and somewhat less severe.

Every year my gratitude list is topped by my son, Daniel James Boise, followed closely by my grandson, Brody Atticus Boise (named after Atticus Finch -- how cool is that?), my husband Ken Johnson, our granddaughter, Nikki, my BFF Rhonda, and our dog, Maggie. And then there's everybody else I love. And then there is all that I have accomplished in my life -- my education and legal career, as well as my budding writing career.

But when I am in my darkness, I cannot even see all this light and joy in my life, much less appreciate it. Instead of feeling loved and connected, I feel unwanted and undeserving of love and kindness. I remember feeling that everyone I knew would be better off without me because I just never felt like I belonged here. Sometimes I still don't, but I know now that those are just thoughts and feelings and thoughts about my feelings. They are not real, but I am. I am real. And I am human, just like everybody else.

I did not learn these things this past year by myself. I have been on antidepressant medication for some time, and it took over six months to find the right one, the one that worked for me. I am neither proud nor ashamed of that fact. It is hard for me to confront my demons, and years of responding to them with panic and denial only aggravated and enlarged them. I didn't just want to die, I felt already dead and just wanted to escape the pain and harshness of what I believed to be a very cruel and dangerous world. It was only by talking it out with my therapist, with whom it took time and courage to establish trust, that I could permit myself to feel safe enough to deal with all this darkness. And I learned that my darkness is only one side of my humanity, and that it did not grow to such gargantuan proportions all by itself overnight, but was comprised largely of half a century of untreated PTSD and personal insecurities.

Mostly, my demons consisted of decades of guilt, regret and feeling like I was always doing it wrong, whatever "it" was at the time. And when I made mistakes, as we all do, I fed my demons with their denial, as if making mistakes and poor choices wasn't allowed to be a part of my human experience. I realized that I was mostly running away from myself, and that I could stop doing that whenever I wanted to. And when I allowed myself to see who I was in the eyes of those who loved and respected me, it was like a whole new world opened up.

For when that darkness is lifted, if even for only a moment or two, or an hour or two, I am able to see and appreciate the beauty and light of love that has always been with me. In those moments I am a gleaming success story because I love and am loved. And then I realize that this love is greater and stronger than my shortcomings and transgressions; and that I don't need to carry my mistakes around with me, or to wear them for all to see and comment upon. I deserve love and respect, just like everybody else. And I let go of judgment, of myself, and especially of others.

For now I realize that no one deserves to be remembered only by their worst mistake. Nobody is all one thing -- good or bad. We are all a strange, yet uniquely similar, mix of many things; many things that we all need help to face and to share. In so doing, we open ourselves up to others, and we let them in because being alone we lack the strength to keep our demons at bay.

I have found that, in letting my guard down, I let compassion in; compassion for myself and others. How much easier it is to face myself and my life, especially my many foibles and their ungracious consequences, when I am not alone. I hope my friend learns these things too, in his own way. And even more important, I hope that we can, as Americans, learn to deal with mental and emotional health issues in a more dignified manner than we have thus far. It is too great a waste of American talent if we do not, and soon.

On this Thanksgiving, 2013, I know that I am not alone, that I have never been alone, and that I will never be truly alone; for I have loved and I am loved. And it is that love, whether in my home today or only in my memory, that sustains me now. And for that, I am grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you, all of my friends. Your love and faith in me has my heart overflowing with gratitude. May you all be richly blessed with all the things that matter most.