Where’s the Thanks?

I love Christmas.  I always have.  In fact, as I have repeatedly expressed, often by overuse of the phrase "suck it," I love Christmas so much that I start decorating the day after Halloween, regardless of what certain unenlightened misers might say or think about my pre-emptive yuletide celebrations.  My detractors, of whom I have many, often complain about the fact I’m putting up my Christmas decorations too early by spouting the well-worn quip (always with a whine in their voice), "But it’s not even Thanksgiving yet!"  My response to such declarations are always the same (i.e., suck it.)  I don’t decorate for Thanksgiving.  I don’t really even celebrate Thanksgiving.  To me, Thanksgiving is really nothing more than an excuse to get together and eat until you’re sick…something I’m perfectly capable of doing on my own, thank you very much.  Also, any holiday which embraces the consumption of the foul putrescence known as pumpkin pie is a holiday I can’t get behind.  Pumpkin pie is like nutmeg-flavored diarrhea in a crust.  It’s like thick orange/brown mucous topped with Reddi-Whip.  Just the thought of pumpkin pie makes me dry-heave a little.  Foul, evil, nasty, disgusting, gag-inducing slime.  Blech.

Over the last few weeks, as I’ve been telling people to suck it, I’ve been thinking somewhat about where my attitude about Thanksgiving came from.  The holiday has always made me a little uncomfortable.  To me, Thanksgiving was always about driving several hours to eat a meal with family members where, most of the time, there wasn’t anyone my age or anything fun to do.  I was a very picky eater, so I was often stuck in a meal with food that wasn’t made the way I liked it.  My siblings and I fought constantly when we were young, so being trapped in the car for a total of six hours in a single day should have been cause enough for my parents to sell us to the gypsies.  (Why don’t we have gypsies in the US?  I think a solid gypsy population could really do wonders for scaring bad little kids straight.  I think I’ll work on that.  Anyone want to be a gypsy?  The pay’s not great, but you’ll get to enjoy the outdoors!)  And most of all, I have a deep, abundant loathing of football.  I despise the game to the depths of my cold, poisonous heart.  To this day, hearing that omnipresent roar of a large crowd blasting through a television speaker with the ear-meltingly dull commentary over top, all while the harsh bluish lights of the stadium cast the field in a shadowless, erie glow is enough to turn me into a quivering mass, huddling in the corner and sucking my thumb.  I hate football (and all sports) so much I’ve actually gone so far as to un-program ESPN and Fox Sports from my Tivo so I won’t even see them in the guide when I’m looking for something to watch.  Any holiday that has, as a major part of the celebratory process, either a game of football or football on television is a holiday I don’t enjoy celebrating. 

Then, when I went to college, my celebration of Thanksgiving really ceased because, for the most part, I spent my Thanksgivings alone or with people who invited me over out of pity, not necessarily because they wanted me around.  My freshman year of college, I was the only person in the dorms, because I had to do a show Thanksgiving night.  The next two years, I ate a total of 7 Thanksgiving dinners as I was on my mission–none of which were with my family, who I was missing terribly.  The year after that, I was alone in my apartment because I was back doing another show.  Then I spent Thanksgiving in the hold of a cruise ship.  Then alone again.  Then at the house of a family of a guy that my dad went to college with, and so on.  By the time I was close to family again, the traditions of Thanksgiving had just been swept aside.  Thanksgiving was usually just another day for me because usually as soon as dinner was over, I had to be back at the theatre for a show.

But most of all, I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving because, although I am not proud of admitting it, I’m not a very thankful person, and I never have been.  I have a very difficult time looking past what I consider to be the shortcomings and downfalls of my life to see those things that are good.  I have an exceptionally negative outlook on life in general, and I always have. So having a day where everyone spends all their time expounding upon all the things that bring them joy, all I am able to do is to sit back and consider how miserable I am.  Then, it gets to be my turn, and I sit at my empty plate and turn on "Performer Matt," and say all the right words, and maybe even work up some emotion or fake being choked up for 45 seconds until it’s the next person’s turn.  Then it gets switched right back off and I sit there miserable because someone just spent 3 minutes talking about how much they love their spouse and how their spouse makes them complete and I get angry all over again at not being able to say the same thing.

I’ve often wondered why gratitude in general is such a foreign concept to me, and has been as far back as I can remember.  From the age where I was finally old enough to be able to understand what I was feeling, I have had an almost god-like ability to find the negative and to draw it close to my heart.  I can remember coming home from school in first and second grade, and crying because I didn’t have any friends, even though I did have some friends.  I remember Christmases where all I could focus on were the presents I didn’t get, to the point that I could never enjoy the presents I did get.  I don’t know that, as I was experiencing it, I ever recognized the sacrifice or energy my parents spent on me.  I even remember a phase in my spiritual train wreck journey where I made an effort in my prayers to only express thanks for my blessings and not to ask for anything in the hopes that it would help me be better at recognizing the blessings in my life.  In the end, every single prayer or journal entry sounded exactly the same.  I could make a list of 10 or 15 things that I was grateful for, and then I’d sit there, and my mind would go fuzzy, and I would be completely unable to think of anything else.

So, when Thanksgiving rolls around, I don’t "celebrate" the way most people do.  I brag on my blog about the amazing meal that someone else is catering, and try to convince people to come and visit me so they can experience it too.  And that’s it.  I spent $40 bucks to eat an insanely delicious meal at a restaurant, and I get the day off work.  But for most people, the food is only a very small part of Thanksgiving.  It’s about the experience, the family, the process.  And for me, the experience is really my least favorite part of the whole thing. 

Besides, I just can’t, in good conscious, celebrate a holiday with such an atrocious color scheme.  Orange, yellow, and brown?  Blech.  The 70s called.  They want their color palette back.

I can’t glow with effusive gratitude like some people.  I’m not a happy person, and I don’t really like my life all that much.  That being said, there are a few things for which I am grateful:

• I was born into the best family on Earth.
  • I have the most wonderful, supportive parents
  • The coolest sister who astonishes me with her strength and courage
  • And a younger brother who has grown into an awe-inspiring man
  • I have nieces that I love (but never get to see)
• I have a dog that is a friend and a companion, and who showers me with the day-to-day love and affection that sometimes I so desperately need
• Despite the rain, I live in one of the most wonderful places I’ve ever been (and I’ve been a lot of places)
• My job allows me to pay the bills, buy my toys, and enjoy my hobbies
• I have managed to find a modicum of peace in some aspects of my life that wasn’t there before
• I have a wonderful mind that drives me to learn, experiment, create, build, and explore–and to enjoy the process almost more than the final result
• I am done with my formal education
• I have a warm(ish) apartment, a car than runs, clothes, and (obviously) ample food.

So, all in all, it sure could be a whole lot worse.  I am able to see these things, and I hope, recognize them to a certain extent.  I just hope that, as my life goes on, I will be able to find a way to let the gratitude overpower the things I feel are missing from my life, rather than the other way around.  Until then, I hope you’ll forgive me if I skip over Thanksgiving a little and focus on Christmas instead.

Because I REALLY hate pumpkin pie.