The beauty of a Thanksgiving table is that it offers an arsenal for a food fight when family emotions escalate to WWIII level drama. One more word about what you’re wearing, and granny is getting a deviled egg shoved right in her bigoted mouth.
The unfortunate truth about Thanksgiving tables with some families is that they serve guilt trips with a side of manipulation. And these tables force many to face the fact that they’re walking on the very eggshells that created those deviled eggs. It’s that recognition that love must come wrapped in compliance and control. It’s the reality that home isn’t necessarily where the heart is, but instead where the land mines go off. It’s the sad reality that the nuclear family we came from may be a little heavier on the “nuclear,” detonation than love, respect, and family values. If you make one wrong move, say one thing that doesn’t meet your uncle’s expectations, kaboom, you’re at the children’s table.
It’s like being thirteen all over again, and not in the “Lisa Frank,” cheetah print fun kind of way. This thirteen-year-old inner self is far worse than those dreaded thirteen-year-old bangs that are cut way too short, and braces that compliment your chubby cheeks in the most awkward and unflattering kind of way. No, this kind of thirteen is the most unfortunate of them all, it’s the inner thirteen-year-old that begged to be respected, to be heard, to be part of the family. a person that didn’t have to change their entire personality in order to be seen.
This kind of Thanksgiving comes saturated in more than gravy, it comes with passive aggressive backhanded comments, and grief. It comes with the grief of recognizing that sometimes being around your family means that you must be quiet, shrink, and stifle all that makes you who you are in order to keep the peace.
This grief, it is found in the endless moments, when your nervous system drags you back to the age when you learned that having your own thoughts and opinions meant you were labeled as, “problematic.”
In dysfunctional families, autonomy is practically seen as high treason. Therefore, one learns to shrink themselves at a very young age. And this version of us finds its way back to the table time and time again. Anytime that Aunt Margaret criticizes our, “too soft,” gentle parenting approach, we find ourselves feeling small, and voiceless. Dare we remind Aunt Mag that her children haven’t spoken to her in twenty years because she could’ve used a little gentler parenting approach herself.
I’m convinced this holiday strife is why there are more heart attacks around the holidays, I’m just certain that some see the sight of their grouchy papaw complaining that the turkey is too dry, and their chest tightens knowing he will be disrespecting not just their cooking but their clothing, and above all, their political standpoints for the next four hours. A hospital trip is far easier than dealing with family judgement, wouldn’t ya say? No?
The hard part is when you recognize how detrimental that performative based, “love,” has been to your mental health. Because in these types of relationships, one faces repeated grief unless they cut that person/people off entirely. Grief occurs over and over again because you can no more expect respect and reciprocity from some than you can expect a fish to ride a bicycle.
But, somehow, deep down, you always wish your family could accept the person they created as a person with thoughts, values, and a sense of individualism, instead of seeing emotions as inconvenient, and different lifestyles as betrayal. And with each holiday comes the reality that these families cannot provide what that inner thirteen-year-old needed, a safe place to land. It’s chronic disappointment that results from repeatedly recognizing that some families cannot offer us emotional safety.
What we can do is create boundaries around how much time, if any, we are willing to spend with our dysfunctional twerp family members. We can create boundaries around what we’re willing to discuss making sure that our family knows were only there for calories, not debates regarding your lifestyle.
Say you do want to see granny, but you find your dad to be somewhat insufferable, you can always arrive a little late and leave a little early. Or you can get there after the party and spend time alone with the ones you prefer to see. You can position yourself closer to safe family members, I’d advise that the closer to the door the better.
If all else fails, one easy recipe secret could go a long way. The mother-in-law may not feel so impressed to criticize the cleanliness of your baseboards if she is busy trying to find the exit herself. Laxatives in the pumpkin pie will ensure a quick end to the night.
Just remember, like every holiday, this too will have an end. And for this, we give thanks.