A Thanksgiving Reflection on My Recovery

Thanksgiving was once a day that created a lot of confusion and difficulty for me. While the people around me were sitting around big, festive tables and speaking about everything nice, such as gratitude, family, blessings, and abundance, I usually felt the opposite of all those good things, meaning empty, disconnected, and ashamed. I wore fake smiles, engaged in small talk, and tried to look like I was “fine,” but the reality was that for the longest time, I was not fine whatsoever. I was having a tough time. I was at war with myself. And I was totally off the track.

However, this year is quite different. It is not the ideal, nor has the old memories and emotional triggers vanished magically — but it is a very peaceful way that I would have never anticipated. It is very honest in a way that I used to be scared of. And it is finally, after a very long time, deep and sincere being thankful.

Looking back at my recovery journey, I have a clear memory of that hopeless version of me. The one that opened her eyes every single day feeling she was cooped up in the same looping, making a silent vow, “Tomorrow will be different,” and not having a clue how to turn that promise into reality. I remember feeling guilty, afraid, ashamed, and lonely. I remember the silent nights I cried, terrified to admit that I was in need of help.

Also, I remember the instant when I reached out at last — shaking, uncertain, but worn out from running. That very second made a world of difference.

The recovery process was not linear. It was not a smooth and nice catwalk either. It was a roller-coaster of impurities, discomfort, humbling experiences, and minute progresses that were not recognizable as progress at the time. Nevertheless, each little step — going to a meeting, being honest, calling for help, deciding not to numb a feeling — turned into part of the underneath I stand on today.

This year Thanksgiving was quite a different experience for me than I expected; in fact, it moved me in a way that was completely unexpected:

A person I had just met at a meeting asked me to come and join his family for Thanksgiving dinner.

His gesture was not a result of obligation, sympathy, or formality. It was an act of a kind and warm-hearted person who really included and connected and that was happening at the time without my knowledge. That plain invitation was a reminder of one of the best presents recovery has given me: a community. People who comprehend. People who appear. People who keep a spot at their table and in their hearts.

For a long time, I felt that I was not a part of anything. Now, there is a person who considers me as a member of his circle. And that is really something for which I am deeply thankful.

Thanksgiving this time feels like a major step. A subtle but significant sign of how far I have come. I appreciate the character I had who did not surrender, even when giving up was the easier road to take.

I am thankful for the people who stood by me without judging.

I am thankful for the nights when I picked sobriety even if I had to shake.

I am thankful for the clarity, the presence, and the mornings without guilt.

I am realizing that being thankful is not my annual practice of gratitude. It is something that binds me to recovery. On some days it is very evident. At times it is subtle, a nice and harmonious moment, a secure place, or an unexpected dinner invitation.

I am thankful for non-spectacular but constant growth. For gradual but real healing. Above all, I am thankful that I am no more the person I used to be.

This Thanksgiving, my heart is full, but not because everything is perfect. It is because I can finally see the long way I’ve travelled. And I am coming into the next phase of my recovery with gratitude leading each step.

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