Today was...a roller-coaster ride for me. After being off Cymbalta for financial reasons, I recently went back on it. But the constant dizzy spells prompted me to try going without it for two days. I got back on it yesterday after my family expressed concern.

Thanksgiving is always stressful for me anyway, largely because counter space in my kitchen is at a premium. Anyhow, after repeatedly knocking things to the floor, dropping my roll, and struggling to cut the turkey, I finally just broke down crying. The only thing that kept going through my mind is, "Normal, functioning people don't have this kind of trouble with things." All I could think of is my cousins who seem to have it all together and effortlessly manage a family and a job. And I was overwhelmed by the thought, "I've tried so hard all these years to be perfect, to not cause problems or give anyone a reason to criticize me. Yet here I am, unable to cut a turkey without difficulty."

I hate the stress of Thanksgiving, even though there were just three of us this time. My dad did all the prep work, like peeling potatoes, but he's in a wheelchair and can't help with the actual cooking. He's also the type who forgets that I've made cornbread dressing and pea salad before, so the morning was a lot of "You know you have to drain the peas," or "Don't forget to cook the vegetables before you add them to the dressing," or "You remembered to put poultry seasoning in this, right?" My brother works nights and informed me that the only help he would be giving me was to put the 22-pound turkey into the oven. So I did the actual cooking myself.

The ambrosia salad was actually pretty good, and my brother actually liked the cornbread dressing. I also saw a little green anole lizard in my windowsill when I was getting some bowls for storage and prep. We used to have anoles, so it was a nice treat to see this little guy so curious about our windowsill.