Thanksgiving, a Sore Throat, and a Forced Vacation

Writing to you between sneezes with a little truth, a little humor, and a whole lot of gratitude.

Thanksgiving, A Sore Throat, and a Forced Vacation

Good morning from the land of tissues, peppermint tea, and a body that has absolutely insisted I sit my behind down and rest. I’ve been up for two hours and somehow feel worse than yesterday, which I didn’t think was physically possible. My eyes are leaking, my nose is a faucet, and I’m sneezing like a border collie in a hay field.

I want you to know one thing right out of the gate.
This is not a tragedy. This is simply what happens when a woman doesn’t sleep for five nights because she’s too stunned and delighted by the people pouring through her Substack door. Though holy hell—2,900 of you now, up from 2,400 last week!

I’ve tried to outrun this cold.
My body has responded with, “You can lie down voluntarily, or I can put you down myself.”
So here I am, surrendering to a forced vacation.

But before I disappear back under the covers, I want to send you something real for Thanksgiving.

Not the usual glossy gratitude parade.
Not the “let’s all remember how blessed we are to live in the greatest nation in the world.”
No patriotic confetti.
No spiritual pearl clutching.
No performance.

Just the truth.

Thanksgiving is chaos for many, comfort for some, and completely irrelevant for others.
Some of you will gather around a table.
Some of you won’t.
Some of you will cook for twelve.
Some will heat up a frozen dinner.
Some of you will be surrounded by people.
Some of you will be alone because you chose to be or needed to be.

There are more of us who don’t have the classic Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving than those who do. I keep that in mind every year.

As for me, I’ll be making my famous seafood gumbo, watching the parade, and enjoying a day I’ve intentionally designed for myself. This is how I like it. This is what feels peaceful to my soul. And honestly, I’ve got plenty to be grateful for.

Not just the numbers but the internal transformation of the last eleven months. I don’t separate spiritual from anything else. Life is spiritual, all of it. And I have grown in ways I didn’t even know were possible.

That’s what I’m grateful for today.
The growth.
The clarity.
The joy.
The feeling of being met — finally — by the people who understand what I’m doing with my words.

When I’m upright again, we’ll return to Becoming Clara, and I’ll finish preparing it for its December 10 release as a novella. The story is unfolding beautifully, and I’m excited to get back to it when my throat stops feeling like a cheese grater.

In the meantime, if you’ve been considering becoming a paid subscriber, now is a lovely time. The yearly option is cheaper than the monthly, and it gives you full access to all the Clara chapters as they’re published, plus everything that came before. Substack still has their 20 % off annual subscriptions running. No idea when it ends — they never tell us — but I wanted you to know in case you’ve been thinking about it.

But for today, all I want is this:

May your Thanksgiving be exactly what you need — nothing more, nothing less.
May it be peaceful.
May it be gentle.
May it make room for you, instead of the other way around.

I’m heading back to bed now.
I’ll return when my body says I can.

With love,
Monica