It’s difficult to be thankful when:
1) Your family doesn’t live in the same country.
2) The family hosting you knows nothing about you; and it seems more or less a get-together to reminisce about things that the person visiting the family has no clue about.
It was a stressful thanksgiving – don’t get me wrong I was thankful to be adopted for a weekend with a family who was willing to take in a complete stranger because she was friends with one of their sons. But it was stressful in that the son wanted to take me in as a city girl and show me the parts of the city that city girls love, that, and he wanted to reconnect with his best friend forever. I’m a country girl and I’ve never met the best friend forever.
Being reserved and shy in the face of group conversations – especially those I cannot relate – to was inconsiderate to say the least. That being said, the whole trip seemed to consist of nodding and smiling even though I had no idea what was going on. Being dragged to events I had no interest in – much more not even asked what I was interested in. They were things that they enjoyed and loved and I smiled and laughed and I pretended to enjoy them but they saw through my lies and I told them the truth.
I’m good at doing that, after having lied so often I got tired of lying.
Then whenever I discussed my distaste for something since I was told “to be honest” the son would attack me.
“Why do you dislike it so much?”
“When would you ever not have to do that?”
“Why don’t you fix it with this?”
I lost my temper:
“Do you have to ask questions and reassert your intelligence upon me? I’m not a child and this is infuriating.”
The conversation went dead, he knows I’ve changed. I know I’ve changed. Possibly for the better because I can now stand up for myself, but the fact of the matter is:
I’ll never be invited to this house again.
And I’m perfectly okay with that. Hopefully the next house will attempt to understand me and not demean me in any way.