Ugly/Beautiful Holidays

Whether you want to go home for the holidays because you’re like me and get wide-eyed and giddy about the thoughts of pumpkin pies, or whether you’re cynical about the holidays like I pretend to be and just want to go home to avoid wearing those dang shower shoes one more time, the time is coming.

It’s come to my attention, however, that the holidays are also associated with what is known as the “seasonal blues”. It took me a while to crack the puzzle on why people get in their feelings around Christmas time when all this chocolate goodness is surrounding them, but then it hit me. It’s hard to talk about the ugliness that hides behind the beautifully decorated Thanksgiving table and Christmas tree, just as nobody likes to show the truth before that edited selfie.

I discovered this upon telling my roommate what my Thanksgivings look like and she replied with a kind, but possibly terrified, “Woah”.

My family is far from what seems typical, but it’s what is actually typical given that (oh gosh don’t let me say it) more than fifty percent of couples are divorced. Now, before I openly tell you about the ugly behind our beautiful Thanksgiving, I’m afraid I will have to give a quick character analysis on my mishmash family.

First, we have my Mom and Dad. Kate and Steve. Kate, my rock and identical twin, is about as far left as it goes and Steve, my best friend, hero and devoted Cubs fan, is about as far right as it goes. Kate is now married to Dennis, my step-dad. Dennis has two children with his ex-wife Lanna, who is now married to a woman named Tiadra. Dennis’s kids are named Zoey and Zak. Zak travels, does his own thing, and is basically your definition of indie, but doesn’t have an Instagram to prove it. Zoey is too kind for her own good and my best friend till the end (she really helps keep me sane through the ugly). Next are my half siblings, Danielle and Sam, from my dad’s wife before my mom, but the title “half siblings” isn’t really acceptable, for they are 150% my brother and sister. Danielle is your 5’11 nightmare: long legs, beautiful, Air Force boyfriend, works for Nike, smart, funny… I’ll stop because it’s hurting my feelings. Sam is Danielle in dude form and a freakishly successful lawyer. No, I will not give you their phone numbers, and no, I am not done. Next, is my dad’s current wife, Penny. Penny is a hoot. She enjoys beating everyone in Jeopardy! and makes a mean panini. Penny also has two kids, my newer step siblings: Will and Viv. Will and Viv are new to the clan but are seen more frequently given that the age range of the kids goes from Viv, who is 16, to Sam, who’s 29.

I apologize if you have to read through that a few times.

Anyway, because of my typical, but not so typical family, my Thanksgiving can also be considered a bit atypical as well.

On November 28th, I will wake up at my mother’s house at the crack of dawn. We’ll drive to downtown Phoenix for the Turkey Trot and dream of seeing seasons and cold weather, but instead it will probably be cacti, palm trees, and 65 degrees (which, by the way, is FREEZING for us). My mom, step-dad, and grandma, who flew in from her guild in upstate New York, will cheer me on as I run a 5k.

From there, my dad will meet me at the finish line and drive me to his house to watch the Thanksgiving Day Parade with Will, Viv, and Penny. Penny will tell us all about the different floats while my dad will pretend to listen and throw in a couple sarcastic lines like, “Please, tell me more”, just piss her off. Viv will be making a Tik-Tok in the corner, Will will probably be pranking one of us, and I’ll be sitting there very aware of what’s going on, given that I’m writing about it beforehand.

It’s uncertain what the food aroma will be as I enter my father’s house because, well, we change things up for Thanksgiving. Sometimes it’s your typical turkey dinner with mashed potatoes, green beans, and stuffing, but other times, it’s an order of KFC fried chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes because the traditional cooking went wrong. Regardless, the gang gathers around the table. They’ll try not to, but will inevitably end up talking about the need for guns and less taxes, and they’ll say what they are thankful for.

Then it’s off to Kate’s. My 5k might have cancelled out the meal I scarfed down at my dad’s, but it definitely isn’t going to cancel out my second one.

Thanksgiving at my mom’s would seem far more traditional if an outsider walked in unaware of the dynamic. My mom spends the day in the kitchen—using her on-deck experience from having a professional chef step-mom—to prepare a meal that tastes as though it were made by the gods.

My sister’s boyfriend will probably be scared off by either my grandma or myself, whomever interrogates him first. My best friend Athena will be there because, like me, her Thanksgiving is not so typical either. This gang will also gather around a table that is intricately decorated and not appreciated enough to eat a fabulous meal, discuss how soon Trump can get out of office, and say what they are thankful for.

My Thanksgivings might not be ordinary. The holidays might not run smoothly due to jumping around from place to place, but as I scrub the dishes with Zoey after my final meal, lick the bowl of whiskey infused whipped cream, and invite friends over to scrape the dessert plates while watching a movie, I will be grateful for my ugly/beautiful Thanksgiving.

It’s time for people to embrace the ugly and stop with the unnecessary anxiety on having the perfect holiday. It’s okay to guiltily eat KFC and watch football. It’s okay to be late to the Thanksgiving Day Parade viewing party. It’s okay to have multiple Thanksgivings. It’s okay to not spend Thanksgiving with your family. It’s okay to do something that isn’t what everyone else is doing. Nothing is worth letting “seasonal blues” get in the way of that jolly feeling we all crave.

Happy Thanksgiving. As my favorite holiday card states, “May your turkey be plump, May your potatoes and Gravy never have a lump, May your pies take the prize, And may your Thanksgiving Dinner stay off your thighs.”

Be Happy,

Johnnie (:

By Johnnie Mitchell

Arizona Wildcat, daily runner, and dreamer of being taller than five feet.