Photo by Link Hoang on Unsplash
It’s that time of year again. Holiday season. For me that used to mean cooking and baking up a storm. I loved it and looked forward to it every year. Now, eh, not so much.
Cooking was my happy place. I loved the planning and preparation of special meals—a summer party, a dinner for friends, and especially holiday meals when I would pull out all the stops. Creating something yummy—both on the plate and in spirit—gave me immense pleasure.
Cooking was also my refuge. Getting lost in the pages of Bon Appetit and Martha Stewart Living as well as my favorite Food Network shows (when they were actually about cooking and not reality competitions) brought joy to difficult days, like a stressful period at work, after my mom’s stroke, and moving to a new area.
Cooking made me feel special. It was a passion I indulged, a gift I gave myself, and one I enjoyed sharing with others.
Somewhere along the way my relationship with cooking changed. It went from being something I did for me that made me feel special to something I felt I needed to do to be special. Cooking became my currency and contribution; it was how I provided value and proved my worth.
And where holidays were concerned, I also came to feel responsible for other people’s experience, creating what I thought they expected.
Things change.
The holidays have gotten a lot more relaxed in recent years. My husband isn’t much of a holiday reveler and isn’t particularly attached to tradition. We don’t live near family, so we don’t have that commitment. And although we have spent half of our Thanksgivings together taking a road trip, on those years when we’re home (like this year), I still find myself plotting a traditional holiday meal.
Menu planning has become even more difficult by dietary limitations due to my chronic illness. Finding dishes that will work for me and be enjoyable for both of us has been a challenge. Last year’s Thanksgiving meal was disappointing. It was almost as much work as turkey and all the trimmings, and not nearly as satisfying.
So when I noticed myself falling down the same rabbit hole this year, trying to plan the impossible Thanksgiving dinner, I finally gave up and turned to a source wiser than me—my soul. Her advice?
“Make yourself happy.”
So simple. So obvious. So unimaginable. Making myself happy hasn’t really been my holiday M.O. for the past couple of decades. I’ve been focused on making other people happy.
That said, I found it surprisingly simple to let go of creating a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. But now I had a new challenge, figuring out what would make me happy this holiday.
After stripping away decades of ingrained behavior and social conditioning, I landed on this: Simple and satisfying.
I didn’t want to spend weeks planning the perfect menu and then two days (at least) prepping and cooking it all. And I didn’t want to have to settle for pale gluten- and dairy-free approximations of dishes I love. I wanted to enjoy the day and the meal, which meant giving myself permission to make things as easy as possible and indulge in some of foods I typically stay away from—in moderation, of course.
I came up with a menu that is completely untraditional and exactly what I want to eat—grilled burgers with roasted garlic compound butter, mac ‘n cheese with bacon, pomegranate and hazelnut salad, and apple crumb crostata. The more I think about this meal the happier I get. And, the menu sounds good to Todd, too.
I now understand the heart of my soul’s message. Making myself happy isn’t selfish. In fact, making myself happy brings happiness to those around me. Just like when I used to cook Thanksgiving because it made me happy, not because others expected it.
There are many times during the year—hell, even during each day—that we put other people’s happiness ahead of our own. That pressure ramps up exponentially during the holidays. And though there may be fewer obligations this season due to the pandemic, the pressure to make it special can still be high.
If you find yourself trying to please everyone but you this season, ask yourself this:
What am I doing out of habit that I used to love but no longer brings me joy?
What would make me happy?
Then do that. It will be the greatest gift you can give yourself and others.