Weeks, they go by way too fast. As the final hours of a sunday come, surely they will go, and I am not the more rested nor invested into the coming week.
Thanksgiving approaches. I don’t remember many great thanksgivings, but there have been 2 or 3 where I’ve had great food and a decent time. The difficulty for me was feeling like I didn’t fit in amongst family. Everyone there was happy to see someone else, conversations were born, had their life cycle, and birthed another one before they died. There was dancing, footprints, and sole marks all over grandma’s linoleum tile. Some were there jovial, drunken, and then slowly they’d find a place and fall asleep, like at the kitchen counter or the couch, while the music played on. Loud, loud music. That’s what I remember, and I would be quiet.
I sometimes think, if I bring my kids around to places like that, I have to remember to check in with them from time to time. I want to make sure they’re ok, because sometimes environments like that are too hard to handle. But maybe I was just the black sheep. My cousins and sister all learned to drink at these occasions, they learned to dance, they learned to move around and socialize, and they played the roles of family better than I could even dream. Whenever I tried anything, I felt awkward and upset. These weren’t people I just met, these were people I’d known my whole life.
Anyway, now I am alone, and it’s hard here. But I am not necessarily missing home at these times, because for me, it was hard there too. As tough as it is to be alone, sometimes I think it’s the best possible world for me. Given my knack for finding unhappiness and defects, my life has become just that. Finding the most acceptable path, and moving forward. Like shopping at a thrift store, sometimes you’ll find a good thing, and it won’t even cost you that much.
Becoming A Happy Person 