Oh.
And giving thanks.
I always hated that moment right before the prayer over the food where everyone was required to go around and say what they were most thankful for this year. We give thanks or as I like to call it: Humble Bragging.
Now I don't want to take away from the people who actually are giving thanks for the good in their life. Their genuine gratefulness while sitting in the tension of life is always a breath of fresh air, but most of the time I find myself listening to the "truly blessed' going on and on about how "thankful" they are for this thing and that thing and how much they have to
I'm curious about what it would look like to have a Griefsgiving instead of a Thanksgiving.
Haha. I know, it's not a good "happy holiday" name and really, who wants to be apart of that lame, tear filled holiday.
Well.... I kinda do.
I'd like to be apart of a circle where we aren't desperately grabbing onto things to "feel" thankful for or humble bragging. A safe, circle with real people with real problems who say "This year has been a real shit storm because of... And today I am thankful that I didn't scream at my wife/husband/kids/dogs/cats/hamsters, or reduce myself into a pile of shameful lies about my body, or drink myself into oblivion or cut myself."
How would it be to stand in a circle where we can literally be thankful for the huge life-changing moments we have, but don't share with people for fear of revealing our dark secrets and having judgement passed on us.
A friend of mine texted me this past week and asked me how gratitude felt amidst my grief and sorrow.
I sat staring at the message for awhile surprised by the question. I wasn't surprised that she had asked the question...she's one of the few people who would be brave enough to ask that question. It was surprising because of how kind that question felt to my heart. Here amidst all this shit of infertility and grief and one beautiful person stood up in that mess and offered my heart a chance to breathe. A brilliant glimmer of kindness. Someone had been loving enough to address the elephant in the room.
I responded that while I knew that there were things to be grateful for, it all felt forced and fake when I try to name anything.
Forced and Fake.
I don't think that's what giving thanks is supposed to look like and yet all too often it does. I feel like I can't stand up and say that I am thankful that I had the energy to clean the house, or didn't pressure myself about the future or what the holidays are supposed to look like, or that my battle with self-harm isn't winning, or that I am even breathing at this very second because I don't want to die. But guess what? That's exactly what I am thankful for this year. Those things are real and brutally raw and honest.
Infertility has stolen so much from me these past couple years. My heart breaks every freaking day. I can't go to the mall and not run back into my car sobbing because I saw a beautiful mother holding her tiny baby. I struggle every day with fighting for my life, finding worth in myself, and figuring out what is real and true. It's a battle I was sure I would lose and yet, somehow, I'm still here.
So while everyone celebrates their Thanskgiving, me and my husband will be wrapping our arms around each other, taking a deep breath before being surrounded by everything our hearts ache for and we'll be having a private Griefsgiving in our hearts.
It might not catch on as a real holiday, but if you want to sit in the grief and be genuinely honest I'll be here today, tomorrow, and hopefully every day after that. We'll give a tearful thanks for what's been lost and what we're fighting for today.
