Thanksgiving - Turning the Focus

Today, I want to talk about a holiday that brings up a lot of emotions for many of us—Thanksgiving.

And I want to start by telling you the truth:

For years, I dreaded Thanksgiving.

When Thanksgiving Felt Like a Threat, Not a Celebration

Long before the holiday arrived, weeks before the table was set, I would start to feel the anxiety building in my chest.

I would lie awake, rehearsing how I was going to get through it.

• How I would “handle” the food.

• How I would dodge the comments.

• How I would pretend everything was fine even though inside, I was terrified.

  
  

I convinced myself—no, I delusioned myself—into believing that everyone would be watching everything I ate…

Or everything I didn’t eat.

And even though my family never once said they were scrutinizing me, I believed their eyes were on my plate, on my body, on my choices.

Looking back, I can see what was really happening:

I was trapped in my own mental prison.

• A prison my eating disorder built.

• A prison I maintained.

And somewhere along the way, I forgot what Thanksgiving was supposed to be about.

• Gratitude.

• Connection.

• Rest.

• Laughter.

• Being with people who loved me.

But in the world of an eating disorder, even something warm and beautiful can feel like a threat.

Loved Ones Who Care (Even If It Feels Hard)

Here’s the thing I didn’t fully understand back then:

My loved ones weren’t judging me—they were worried about me.

• They cared.

• They didn’t want to see me suffering.

• They were witnessing me disappear, little by little, and they didn’t know what to do.

But when you’re in the eating disorder mindset, compassion can feel like pressure, and concern can feel like shame.

And instead of letting support in, I shut down even more.

If this is where you are right now, I want to gently say:

You’re not alone.

And you’re not imagining the difficulty—holidays are hard when you’re struggling.

What Recovery Taught Me

• Recovery was not a straight line.

• It wasn’t peaceful or pretty.

• But it taught me something that changed everything:

• I was not a friend to myself.

• I didn’t speak to myself with kindness.

• I didn’t allow myself joy.

• I pushed myself into corners that no one else put me in.

  
  

Recovery taught me to ask:

What if I stopped being my own jailer?

What if the freedom I was longing for was waiting on the other side of permission?

• Permission to nourish myself.

• Permission to rest.

• Permission to show up imperfectly.

• Eventually—one step, one meal, one painfully honest moment at a time—I walked myself out of that prison.

And now, on the other side, here’s what I know with absolute certainty:

The hardest part of Thanksgiving isn’t the meal.

It’s getting there.

• It’s the anticipation.

• The build-up.

• The worry.

• The rehearsing.

• The fear that you won’t be “okay.”

But you will be okay.

And you deserve to be okay.

Strategies for This Thanksgiving

If you’re entering this holiday season with anxiety, here are a few grounding reminders:

1. Take care of yourself first.

Rest.

Eat normally (or as close to normally as you can).

Hydrate.

Give yourself time.

You don’t owe the holiday a performance.

2. Set boundaries.

You are allowed to leave early.

You are allowed to step outside for air.

You are allowed to say, “I’d rather not talk about food today.”

Boundaries aren’t rude—they’re protective.

3. Ask for support.

Recovery isn’t meant to be done alone.

Tell someone you trust what you’re feeling today.

Let them be your anchor when the world feels loud.

Today, Thanksgiving looks completely different for me.

• I see the people at the table—not the food.

• I hear the laughter—not the mental noise.

• I feel the gratitude—not the guilt.

And if you’re not there yet, that’s okay.

This isn’t a race.

Your recovery is not measured by how well you “handle” a holiday meal.

It’s measured by how gently you treat yourself as you navigate it.

So this year, my hope for you is simple:

May you remember that Thanksgiving is about gratitude—not perfection.

Connection—not control.

And nourishment—not punishment.

• You deserve to show up exactly as you are.

• You deserve support.

• You deserve compassion.

• And you deserve peace.

No matter where you are in your journey, you are not alone.

I’m glad you’re here.

And I am grateful for you.

And remember—your body is not the problem. The culture is.

Take care of yourself.

Honor your boundaries.