Thanksgiving wasn’t what I was expecting and I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about it.

Leading up to Thanksgiving I’d been exhausted from work, endless errands and the general stress of the holidays and trying to make them incredible. By Wednesday evening I’d been feeling better and looking forward to heading home for a couple of days. Then shortly before I went to bed, I got a text from my mom.

Grandma had to be taken to the hospital. My folks and Grandpa followed behind the ambulance and didn’t know what was going on.

So we spent Thanksgiving visiting Grandma in the hospital. The only turkey we had was turkey sandwiches for dinner that night, which I was okay with, and took desserts over to share with Grandpa at their home so he could have some company.

Mom and I visited Grandma again on Friday afternoon before I came back to Columbus that night. I’m not going to go into all the details, but Grandma is okay. As of now the hospital is keeping her for observation and then she’s going to be released for rehab in the next few days.

The last two days have been the typical cleaning and errands before the work week starts all over again. The only upside to the past four days has been my stepdad coming by yesterday to help me finally get some shelves up – turns out I needed anchors and a drill to actually hang this thing – and sleeping until 8 a.m. today.

To be honest, I’m not really sure what to think or how to feel about Thanksgiving. I’m glad my grandmother is okay, obviously. The worrying and being in a hospital didn’t make for an enjoyable holiday, but at the same time, I can’t call it a god-awful time either. It was just a time.

I feel numb, and a part of me is wondering if me getting older means holidays are just going to exist but not really be wonderful or horrible. They’re just there and something that comes every year.

Holidays could be magical or terrible when I was a kid, depending on who had me for visitation that year (divorced parents.) So I vowed to myself that once I had my own place, I would nest and create the holiday magic kid me wish I could have had in those years I wasn’t with my mom. For the most part I’ve been able to do that.

But this year, separate from Grandma, things are different. Maybe it’s the impact of turning 30 and feeling that shift towards being tired, of not wanting to go everywhere and see everything as much as I once did. Maybe it’s the leftover remnants of the depression I had earlier this year.

Back on Thanksgiving I made the mistake of checking Instagram and coming across an ad for a jewelry stop. The as depicted a man proposing to a woman and honestly, it killed me. My former boyfriend and I would have been together three years next month, and around three years is when we wanted to get engaged. I thought of him and the fact this was our first holidays apart. I made Christmas for us magical, and he always loved it, getting to transport back to the childlike wonder and experiencing happy holidays just the two of us.

A part of me wonders if it was ever worth it and if he was ever truly appreciative. He always complained about his family and my mother doing nice things for him if he couldn’t understaaaaaannnddddd it. Speaking from a strictly egotistical place – I hope he spends the next month with his family regretting that he ever pushed me away.

I wound up crying about that ad and my ex to Mom Thanksgiving night. To her credit she was easy on me – and I’m saying to her credit because I know the stress and worry over Grandma was taking a toll on her at the same time.

And at the same time, we were able to find moments of laughter and genuine smiles between myself and Mom, us and Grandpa, and my parents and me. While stressful and not happy, I can’t bring myself to call Thanksgiving a bust either. It just kinda happened in the background of life.

I don’t want to think of holidays and once magical times as becoming “another day,” but for right now, they are and I’m deciding that’s going to be okay. It’s a high stress moment in my and my family’s life, and those come and go. Tomorrow may not be like this at all, and the holidays really are here for such a short amount of time.

In the lyrics of Taylor Swift – ’tis the damn season.

I want to thank all of you who continue to follow along with my blog. In what’s leftover from the spirit of gratitude, I’m thankful to have built a following. Writing is my first love and incredibly therapeutic for me. The last few posts may not be the most bubbly or uplifting, but they’re me. Getting it off my chest is one of the few things to keep me sane and going. And I am forever grateful to all of you who stay with me through the rough patches. So thank you.

Yours in writing and running,

Allison