Thanksgiving has become the “lost holiday,” and why not? It is now commonly accepted that this day is a reminder of colonialism and genocide. Plus, with the dominance of online shopping, it has become the convenient springboard into the capitalistic wet dream of Christmas. I spent most of the day and “Black Friday” getting my shopping done at the expense of time with my family (though to be fair, they were also all on their phones).
This holiday can still be an opportunity to spend time with family, which can be so rare in the modern age when so many Americans flee their hometowns to set off on their own adventures. Since having a child, I’ve experienced the detriment of individualism. It’s almost impossible to care for a baby with just two people (oh, the respect I have garnered for single parents!). Biologically, we are meant to live in communities and share responsibilities. There is a deep isolation and loneliness in today’s world, for which Thanksgiving can be a balm.
We also have an opportunity to use Thanksgiving literally as a reminder to give thanks. There’s been a lot of talk, since Covid especially, of practicing gratitude. A year ago, in the throes of a depression and eager to try any solution, I tested out this practice. I bought the 5 Minute Journal, since 5 minutes was the limit of what I could commit to at the time. Here’s what a page looks like for the day:
You fill it in in the morning, then again before going to bed. It turns out it doesn’t even take 5 minutes—sometimes I do it in under 30 seconds. In that short time, I’m forced to think about the good that is going on in my life. I often write down my daughter or express gratitude for the self-awareness that I recognized the need for the journal in the first place. I write about the beauty in things I used to loathe, like the rain and the cold. I write about my cats, my humble abode, and being able to take care of myself at the most fundamental level. In short, this all builds up to an awareness of the aspects of my life I take for granted. Yes, maybe my bathroom floods when the rain is a deluge, but I do have a bathroom. Maybe my job isn’t the dream I had fresh out of undergrad, but I have one, and I got to go to college. And just as important, committing to writing for 5 minutes in the morning and at night provides two anchors in my day—a structure, a routine, that brings order to the (let’s face it) chaos of life.
It turns out this “trendy” gratitude practice works for me. Maybe it can even transform a forsaken holiday.
(Click HERE to see this adorable short film on gratitude I was in a few years ago.)