The Thanksgiving Dilemma: When Home Isn't Safe (But Everyone Expects You There)

Sarah's text came at 2 AM last night:

"My mom just called about Thanksgiving. She said everyone will be there and it wouldn't be the same without me. But Michael... 'everyone' includes my brother. The one who molested me when I was nine. How do I sit at that table and give thanks?"

I stared at her message, knowing millions of people are wrestling with this exact dilemma right now.

Because "everyone" includes the uncle who violated boundaries.

"Everyone" includes the sister who still tells the "funny" story about your darkest moment.

"Everyone" includes the father who pretends the abuse never happened.

"Everyone" includes the relatives who insist you should be "over it by now."

And we're supposed to sit at that table, pass the potatoes to our trauma, and give thanks?

The Lie We've Been Told About Family Holidays

Here's what nobody says out loud: Sometimes the most loving thing you can do for your family is not show up.

I know. That feels like heresy, especially at Thanksgiving.

We've been programmed to believe:

• Family comes first, no matter what
• Holidays heal all wounds
• If you don't go, you're bitter and unforgiving
• Good Christians always reconcile
• Time with family is always a blessing

But what if your family is the source of your trauma?

What if sitting at that table means betraying yourself?

What if "keeping the peace" means sacrificing your healing?

What if going home for Thanksgiving means going back to the war zone?

My Thanksgivings After Everything Changed

Honestly? I can't even remember my first Thanksgiving after divorce. Maybe that says something about how our minds protect us from the hardest transitions.

What I do remember is the journey of learning to let go of what Thanksgiving "used to be."

One year, I spent it completely alone, house-sitting for my friends, the Stones. And you know what? I was content. There was something healing about releasing the pressure to recreate what was gone and just... being.

My first clear memory of Thanksgiving post-divorce was at my brother's house in Colorado Springs. It was lovely, warm, inviting—just what I needed. No interrogation. No judgment. Just acceptance and turkey.

This year? I'm house-sitting for the Stones again in Colorado, but not alone. A married couple I've counseled for years wanted to spend Thanksgiving with me. They had the time and actually chose to come to Colorado to be with me.

My daughter will be with her mother, and that's exactly where she should be. I encourage her to enjoy holidays with her mom, even when that means I can't be there. That's important. Our kids shouldn't have to choose sides on holidays. They should get to love both parents freely.

Here's what I've learned: Every holiday post-divorce is going to be different. And different doesn't mean worse.

My hope? That divorced families could find a way to get along enough for joint holidays. When that's possible, it's the best solution—kids get both parents, nobody has to be alone, and maybe there's even some healing in the togetherness.

But when that's not possible? That's okay too.

Acceptance became my key to peaceful holidays. Accepting what is, not mourning what was. Creating new traditions instead of trying to resurrect dead ones. Finding gratitude in unexpected places—like the freedom to spend Thanksgiving however I choose.

You Have Three Valid Options (And They're All Okay)

Option 1: You Can Choose to Go

If you decide to attend, you're not weak. You're not giving in. You might have good reasons—seeing safe relatives, maintaining some connections, testing whether things have changed.

But if you go, go prepared:

The Survival Strategy Pack:

• Set a time limit: "I can only stay from 2-4 PM"
• Bring an ally: Never go alone into trauma territory
• Have your own transportation: Your car is your escape pod
• Create a code word: Text a friend who'll call with an "emergency"
• Choose your seat: Near the door, never trapped in the middle
• Prepare your phrases:
  • "I'm not discussing that today"
  • "Let's focus on what we're grateful for"
  • "That's something I'm working through with my therapist"
  • "We remember that differently"
  • "I need to step outside for some air"

The Bathroom Reset: Every hour, go to the bathroom. Put your hands on your chest. Breathe. Ask yourself: "Am I okay? Do I need to leave?" Your body will tell you.

Option 2: You Can Choose Not to Go

This is a complete sentence: "I won't be able to make it this year."

You don't owe anyone an explanation. You don't need a "good enough" reason. Protecting your mental health IS a good enough reason.

If you choose not to go:

• Expect backlash (it's coming)
• Don't JADE (Justify, Argue, Defend, Explain)
• Have something planned for that day
• Connect with chosen family instead
• Remember: Their anger is about their expectations, not your boundaries

Scripts for the backlash:

• "I know you're disappointed. I need to do what's best for my health."
• "I love you AND I can't be there this year."
• "Your anger doesn't change my decision."
• "I'm not discussing this further."

Option 3: The Third Way (Partial Participation)

This is my favorite option now. You can participate without sacrificing yourself.

Examples:

• Stop by for dessert only
• Meet certain family members for breakfast instead
• Host your own Thanksgiving and only invite safe people
• Video call for 10 minutes during dinner
• Send a nice card and flowers
• Visit the day after when it's less intense

You can love your family AND protect yourself. These aren't mutually exclusive.

When Gratitude Feels Like Betrayal

Here's what nobody talks about: When trauma happened in your family, being "thankful" can feel like betraying your truth.

How do you give thanks when:

• Your childhood was stolen
• Your trust was shattered
• Your family chose the abuser
• Your pain was minimized
• Your boundaries are still ignored

You don't have to be grateful for what hurt you.

You can be grateful you survived. You can be grateful you're healing. You can be grateful you know better now. You can be grateful you can protect yourself today.

But you don't have to pretend the trauma was a gift. You don't have to be thankful for the pain. You don't have to perform gratitude for anyone's comfort.

Creating New Meaning (My Thanksgiving Now)

This year, I'm doing Thanksgiving differently again. I'm house-sitting in Colorado, and something beautiful happened—clients who became friends are choosing to spend the day with me. We're creating new traditions. No pretense. No performance. No passing trauma with the turkey.

I've learned:

• Thanksgiving doesn't require your original family
• You can create chosen family
• Peace is more important than tradition
• Small and safe beats large and traumatic
• God honors boundaries, not obligation

Some people are meant to be loved from a distance. Even on Thanksgiving.

The Permission You're Looking For

Since you might need to hear this:

You have permission to:

• Skip Thanksgiving if you need to
• Leave early if you're triggered
• Set boundaries with family
• Protect your peace
• Choose healing over harmony
• Say no without explaining
• Create new traditions
• Spend Thanksgiving alone if that's what you need
• Grieve what Thanksgiving "should" have been

You are not required to:

• Sacrifice your wellbeing for family unity
• Pretend abuse didn't happen
• Be around people who hurt you
• Earn your boundaries
• Make everyone comfortable
• Heal on their timeline
• Forgive before you're ready
• Maintain relationships that harm you

This Thanksgiving, Choose You

Your trauma is real. Your boundaries are valid. Your healing matters. Your peace is precious.

You can't heal in the environment that broke you.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do on Thanksgiving is choose yourself. Sometimes the most faithful thing is to protect what God is healing. Sometimes the most loving thing is to step back.

If you're sitting at a safe table this Thursday, give thanks.

If you're protecting yourself by staying away, give thanks.

If you're creating new traditions, give thanks.

If you're grieving what should have been, that's holy too.

Whatever you choose this Thanksgiving, choose it from strength, not obligation. Choose it from wisdom, not guilt. Choose it from love—including love for yourself.

A Prayer for the Trauma Survivors This Thanksgiving

Lord, be with those who can't go home because home isn't safe. Be with those who will go despite the danger. Be with those creating new definitions of family. Be with those eating alone by choice. Be with those whose empty chairs represent boundaries, not abandonment. Give us all the courage to protect our peace, the wisdom to honor our healing, and the grace to know that You honor our boundaries even when our families don't. Amen.

If you're struggling with this decision, you're not alone. Text me at 303-435-2630  or email [email protected]. Sometimes we need someone to remind us that our boundaries are holy, our healing matters, and choosing peace is always okay.

Resources for Your Healing Journey:

• Letting Go In Love Course - Learning to release what you can't control
• Rise Recovery Curriculum - For those rebuilding after trauma
• 4-Hour Marriage Breakthrough - When relationships need immediate help

Remember: An empty chair at Thanksgiving might represent the healthiest choice you've ever made.