I used to hate Thanksgiving. Loathe. It terrified me, the compulsive eater, anorexic and bulimic. I'd go, eat wildly, hate myself, go home and keep bingeing, Then followed a night over the toilet, forcing myself to puke.
Regardless of where I stood in my eating (disordered) career, I tended to ruin everyone else's Thanksgiving too. The last year of my mother's life was the height of my bulimia. It was clearly going to be my mom's last Thanksgiving, her very favorite holiday. I went (my sister would have killed me if i hadn't), but I was awful. I complained bitterly that they were forcing me to binge by serving such fattening food. Ahead of the dinner, I begged that they make only steamed vegetables and turkey and became infuriated when they didn't. I believe I thru a tantrum during dinner - my mother's last holiday.
Now, I can't tell you the last time I went to a Thanksgiving meal. Last year, I went to an AA meeting with a friend. Other years, I've worked, volunteered or stayed in. Delicious.
Free of the chains of food addiction, I could go and be just fine, if I chose to. If my best friend came home for the holiday, I would love to go to his family's. But he comes in for Christmas, and there's really nowhere else I'd rather be on this day.
Today, I slept until noon (!!!!). It doesn't get better than that - I could stop there. I drank coffee, read a good book, watched game shows (my absolute guiltiest pleasure) and then met with a sponsee, always rewarding.
Now, I'm home, heading to a bath and the aforementioned good book. A delightful day. Never thought I 'd say that about Thanksgiving.