A boy-man too young to be a doctor diagnosed me with Holiday Heart. “This happens a lot around Thanksgiving,” he said, working his tongue around metal braces. Countering him, I wrapped my hospital gown across my chest. My family wasn’t coming for Thanksgiving. The previous two months were haunted by nightmares, flashbacks, and delusions—my fragmented mind replaying the traumas of childhood. My mother, my stronghold, my champion, my childish illusion. The doctor hung a clipboard on the wall, unaffected. “Stress is common this time of year.” I dropped my head. Thanksgiving, two days away, was my mother’s favorite holiday.
Barbie Beaton is a creative nonfiction writer. She lives with her husband in Missoula, Montana. Find Barbie at barbiebeaton.com and on Twitter @frenchbarbe.