Wishing all my recovery friends and readers a Blessed and Happy Thanksgiving Holiday!
I wanted to post something special for a few days who may mosey here as I begin my Holiday Watch and Blogging for the Holidays so anyone looking for help from gambling or any addiction will know someone cares and they are not alone through the Holidays! Leave a comment or EMAIL me: lyonmedia@aol and I’ll be checking both many times a day!
Now, please meet Sandy Swenson! A longtime friend of mine through social media recovery communities is how we met. I have not shared a post of hers in a while but she is the ONLY person I would have and share at Holiday Time as she has been through it all and can uniquely write about how it can be a tough time when you either live with or lost an addict. SO I’ll let her get to it and Y’all go visit and signup for her newsletter too!
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Mom to Mom: Thanksgiving (when your child is addicted)âFilling Not Stuffing
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Mom to Mom: Thanksgiving (when your child is addicted)âFilling Not Stuffing
When my boys were little, they hovered about the kitchen on Thanksgiving morning, eager to get started with stuffing the turkey. We tied on aprons, washed our hands, pushed step stools over to the kitchen counter, and discussed who, exactly, would need to touch the pale and pimply turkey flesh.
My oldest son dumped bread cubes into a large bowl and his brother stirred in the onions and sage; they took turns scooping stuffing into the hollow center of our holiday bird before it was slathered in oil and popped in the oven. Our home was full of pleasant aromas and anticipation and things to be thankful for.
Norman Rockwell picture-perfect.
But things changed once my oldest son became addicted.
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Thanksgiving became a day stuffed with unspoken disappointment, anger, and fear rather than too much pie and good cheer. His younger brother, dad and I would wait for my son to show upâor not show up at allâwhile our turkey and sweet potatoes shriveled away in the oven. Retreating to different parts of the house, we avoided the sad festivities and phony smiles until tradition beckoned us to sit down at the table across from my sonâs very empty place. Thankful, I was not.
It has been ten years now since my son even pretended he was coming home for Thanksgiving dinner. (I donât know where he has turkey. Or if he has turkey.) Iâve had time to adjust to Thanksgiving the way it is and stop wishing for the way it should be, but time hasnât taken away the hurtâor the hole where he should be. I suspect it never will. Instead, over time, Iâve grown stronger. Over time, Iâve learned a few things that have helped me to get through and even enjoy the holidays again.
1. Make room for your feelings and let go of old expectations.
Iâm now strong enough to face the hurt rather than stuff it away (more often than not), and Iâm strong enough to fill the holes in my life and my heart with things that make the day better, not worse. That means facing reality, not trying to re-create what canât be re-created, starting new traditions, and spending quality time with some happy old memories.
Thereâs a lot wrapped up in this big day that rolls around one short day a year. A lot of hopeful hopes, fears, disappointments, and stressâwhen holiday tradition and expectation meet addiction it can be madness. But itâs possible to look at things differently, to do things differently, especially if the whole family is recruited to open their eyes and minds. And when the spirit of things leading up to the big day is giving thanks, that spirit is contagious.
Thanksgiving is meant to be a day for gathering together with loved ones and having fun. So simpleâand beautifulâif left simple. A performance, it is not. And living up to unrealistic expectations, I will not.
I no longer spend weeks leading up to Thanksgiving trying to pretend that everything is fine, that addiction hasnât consumed my son (and therefore my whole family), and that we can still pull off a pretend-perfect performance.
“I no longer stuff down my sadness, putting on the dressing of normal life in the same way I shove myself into my jeans after a big mealâby taking a deep breath, swallowing the pain, and pasting on a smile.”
Instead, I plan ahead. I take the time to face my feelingsâI take the time to grieve and cry for what was and what isnâtâand then, acknowledging the pitfalls I donât want to fall into, I figure out ways to make the holiday work. And one of those ways is to ask for helpâfrom friends, family, a therapist or counselor or any of the hundreds of support groups, like Al-Anon, Families Anonymous, or The Addictâs Mom.
2. Celebrate those who are at the table and let go of perfection.
I have Let Go of thinking that Iâm the only one who can make the day (any day, actually) perfect, for anyone. Or that I can please everyone. Thanksgiving is made all the better with family participationâwhich means asking for everyoneâs hands and hearts to be in the right place at the right time. Together we can prepare and adapt to the fact that our addicted loved one might not show up (or worse).
But, who is not at the table shouldnât take up more space than the people who are.
There is no end to the room I have at my table. And in my heart. But both my heart and home have rules. Before the big day, I set my boundaries (and set up escape hatches), knowing that itâs possible that not everyone who shows up is going to behave. I canât control the actions of anyone else, but what I can control is me (and even that is no easy task.). By facing reality, my actions donât need to be reactions. My boundaries donât need to be rough, they just need to be strong.
3. Try something different; open your heart to something new.
When the holiday hurts, maybe itâs time to try something differentâsomething smaller, or bigger, or somewhere new. The meal, the menu, an old family recipe, the way (or the place) that weâve always celebrated ThanksgivingâŚ. the little traditions mean nothing compared to the meaning of the big tradition itself.
There was a time when I would spend weeks shopping and chopping, mixing and rolling, cleaning and decorating, for a meal that, for all of its hype, actually took less than thirty minutes to eat (not counting the time spent talking). But I enjoyed all the creative chaos. Until things changed. And then I didnât. I felt a bit guilty at first, serving store-bought pie or stuffing from the deli, but the reality is, that isnât what matters. And no one ever noticedâor if they did, they didnât care.
4. Share your gratitude and give back.
Who is at the table is more important than what is on the table (or where the table is). In the holiday hubbub, itâs easy to forget what the holiday is really about.
“Giving thanks.”
So Iâve learned, having grown in my own recovery, to make every effort to live in the moment. To give thanks for the moment. To give thanks for those around meâthose people who matter, and who deserve to feel like they matter, no matter what else is going on. I take the time to soak in and appreciate everything I have to be grateful for. Of which there is a lot.
My need to fill the hole that addiction has left in both my heart and life is big. And Iâve found that helping others keeps me moving forward. It may be overwhelming to add one more expectation to a day already laden with so much, but giving thanks by showing thanks doesnât have to fall on one particular day in the fall. Iâve got 364 other days of the year in which to do what my heart needs to do. It helps me to help kids whose moms, for whatever reason, are unable to do mom stuff for them right now. And maybe someday someone will do the same thing for my son.
5. Accept what is, one day at a time.
Yes, Iâm finally strong enough to fill the hole in my life where my son should be with things that make the holiday better, not worse. Iâm strong enough to face realityâto accept what isâto start new traditions, and to spend time with some happy old memories; those are mine to keep and enjoy, forever.
Old memories still have the power to bring tears to my eyes, but Iâm finally able to treasure my memories for what they are: gifts. I am blessed to have had so many years of such happiness, and not even addiction can take that away. After everything that has happened, I still have my sonsâ smiles, the sounds of their voices, and the feel of their hugs, no matter how far away they may be. So, in giving thanks, I take the time to remember what was before embracing, fully, what is. I laugh, I cry. I allow the movies in my mind to fill my soul.
This year I will visit my 91-year-old mom in Memory Care, then my dad and I will have our Thanksgiving dinner at the home of the friend I grew up with and her parents, people weâve known for about 55 years. Friends like familyâIâm immensely grateful for that.
Many years ago my oldest son sent me this message:
âHappy Thanksgiving, Mom. Hopefully, someday Iâll give you a reason to be thankful for me. I love you. Thank you for still loving me.â
No matter what, I have always been thankful for both of my boys. And Iâm thankful for what I have now. And Iâm thankful that they both know how much they are loved.
This is me filling, not stuffing.
May your Thanksgiving be filled with things to be thankful for, too.
~______________________________________~
Please recovery friends, go visit Sandy on her beautiful and helpful website and her Amazing Books make excellent Holiday Gifts!
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- Tending Dandelions

- Readings for Moms of Addicts App

- The Joey Song


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