Abusive father and brother…
Sister who threw me to the curb…
I went to Tent City 4 and hated it there.
Then I became an independent operator homeless man.
Dealing with people was too much of a headache.
Generally, I prefer being alone.
Now that I have lymphoma — round two — everyone wants to be nice.
They think I may die.
I do not.
I will just need treatment from time to time.
I do not plan on dying any time soon.

At first, it was just my younger brother, mother, and father.
My younger brother and I bonded as kids.
We had a lot of fun together.
Of course, I love my mother.
She was the core, the only one holding our family together.
And she, too, was a victim.
I may be able to handle my father in small doses.
It has been years since I have seen my parents in the flesh.
And for good reason.
My father was a brute.
While he has stopped the physical violence, he can still be a jerk.
His attitude and demeanor are often too much for me.
I do not like the way he treats people, especially my mother.

Of course, no one asked me.
It is just announced.
“We are coming up for Thanksgiving!”
Oh, boy.
I would rather be alone and watch football.
Check my email.
Write on my blog.
Then, I am told that my sister,
who threw me out like a piece of garbage,
wants to meet up for lunch.
No one asks me.
It is just decided on my behalf.
Then, I learn that my older, abusive, jerk-of-a-brother is coming.
I cannot stand his snarky attitude toward me.
Like father, like son.
Once again, no one asks me.
There is a pattern here.

I am willing to give it a shot.
I don’t know why.
BUT CHECK YOUR ATTITUDES AT THE DOOR
OR I WILL LEAVE.
I will retreat to my sanctuary,
the one place where I can shut out the world — my apartment.
I have a place to live and relax and rest, thankfully.

Am I bitching too much?
Writing, like brushstrokes on a canvas or digging my hands into clay, is therapy.
This blog is helping me.
And for that I am thankful.

I debated what to title this.
A ‘Special’ and Strange Thanksgiving…
An Awkward Thanksgiving…
There are many words — too many — to describe it.

Wish me luck. I am gonna need it.