I probably should’ve written about this yesterday when I was all twitchy and emotional, but today marks the first time I go it alone on a holiday. Mother’s depression is out of remission* right now, so she has decided that today is “just another day” and would rather stay at home and think about the stomach cancer** she absolutely doesn’t have even though we’ve been invited to Poppy’s for dinner (we usually have reservations someplace). So, I’m going to Poppy’s, and then Anna’s, alone, which is awesome and I love that they’re including me, but dammit, my Mother’s still alive, and we should be celebrating together.
I do wish y’all a wonderful, artery-clogging feast, however, and I will make sure to have one as well.
* Of course I’ve spoken to her doctor; we were supposed to stop in weeks ago to adjust Mother’s medication and to try once again to get her to commit to going in for more sessions or joining a grief support group. And Mother threw a canary fit because she “wanted to enjoy Thanksgiving in peace.” (Does that count as irony? I can never get it straight.)
**While Mother has lost quite a bit of weight since the spring, her depression ALWAYS manifests itself in her stomach, where she’ll eat very little and produce diarrhea for the rest—diarrhea that I get to hear about ad nauseum. I’ve watched her do this three different times over the course of my life, so before I subject her to a battery of physically draining tests that will tell her she does NOT HAVE FUCKING CANCER, I want her to get the depression under control.