I HATE THANKSGIVING
My favorite most hated time of year. I hate Thanksgiving. I hate this holiday that forces me to sit at a table with my family, and whoever they decide to bring over, and watch them eat a whole bunch of food that I can’t eat. I have to watch as they pass around dishes that I WISH I could eat. I get to smell everything and try to remember what it tastes like. Every Thanksgiving is yet another reminder that I’ve got Ulcerative Colitis and I’ll never have a normal life, like ever.
Two years ago, I spent Thanksgiving in the hospital. I was on a liquid diet, and they wanted to give me pureed turkey. PUREED TURKEY. Can you imagine? At that point, I realized how minuscule my existence was. The rest of the world was eating at tables with their families, and I’m in a hospital bed hooked up to machines. Nobody was going to miss having me at their table. Not that I would have been able to sit at a table because I was so weak, but still.
I hate people who think they understand how I’m feeling. You don’t know what it’s like to be me. You don’t know what it’s like to be one meal away from a flareup. You don’t know what it’s like to have to monitor everything that goes in your mouth. You don’t know what it’s like to go to the movies and not being able to eat popcorn. You don’t know what it’s like to be out on a date, and not even being able to to the whole girly “I’m just going to have a salad” thing. I miss salad. I miss vegetables. I hate having to take supplements for something that I should be able to eat. I wish I could just have a break for one day, just one day where I could just eat whatever I wanted without having to worry about it putting me in the hospital.
