Giving Thanks

It's that time of year in Canada: The Holidays. I know you Americans out there start off with Halloween, but our agricultural season ends a bit earlier north of the border. If you're loosely Wiccan like me, then your holidays are fairly spaced out over the year . . . anyways, I digress.

I reject the romanticized narrative of Thanksgiving, because it's based on the invasion of land and genocide of the people indigenous to it. Settlers can be grateful for the autumn harvest without getting all colonial about it.

In previous years, this gratitude has looked like devouring a Butterball turkey and Betty Crocker stuffing, topped of with Campbell's gravy. Alas, the corn-free life doesn't allow for such a meal anymore. I am happy to report that I'm tolerating grass-fed & finished beef (including bone broth), butternut squash, and carrots. I've yet to try sweet potatoes from the farmer's market, but I'm not exactly in a rush. I lost potatoes to A Reaction on Monday, so no beloved mash for me this weekend.

It's so easy to feel like I have nothing.

I'm even scared to be too grateful for the foods I do have; what if I lose those, too? I've lost a lot of weight. I won't say how much, but let's just say I haven't had my period in about three months, after being regular even in my disordered eating days.

Loss loss loss. This does not a grateful harvest make.

I don't want to ignore this loss, because it's so very real. And as we all hopefully know, ignoring things doesn't make them go away. But sometimes, big loss can eclipse gains. It can especially eclipse what we already have.

Food and weight isn't the only type of loss I've experienced as a result of Allergy Life. It's hard to be social when all I can focus on is what I need to eat and what I can't. I have very limited energy, and most social gatherings revolve around food and drink.

Yet, when the time comes where I can eat more than a couple of items, I look forward to whipping up interesting recipes harvested mostly from local sources. I look forward to future holiday dinners, cooking nights with my friends, ongoing relationships with farmers and deepening my bond with the land as a quiet visitor. This progress is already in motion, and I am thankful for it.

With a heavy heart, I must withdraw from school this semester, too. No, I am not going back to my school in Toronto. The cost of living here is soaring by month. While I have access to so many different kinds of community and care here, I'm struggling to stay afloat. But ...

The pollution is harming me. I long for green. I long for peace.

Yes, I'm leaving my beloved college due to my health. But if I didn't have to, I would have stayed in a city that isn't soothing my mind, body, or spirit. I might get to make the move to Kingston, now! I am excited. I am grateful.

Perhaps giving thanks is about making meaning.

Happy Harvesting.