What I'm Thankful for This Year

Thanksgiving

Never understood this holiday. Still don’t.

People make it sound soft.

Warm. Like the world stops hurting because someone puts a turkey on the table.

We had one. A table. Just too small for all the other things in that trailer.

There weren’t days off. Pain didn’t take breaks. Neither did they.

Teachers used to make us write lists of things we were thankful for. Kids making jokes, rolling their eyes like they had real problems. And me, sitting there trying to pick a lie that sounded normal.

A toy. A movie. Something harmless.

The real list… No one wanted to hear that.

Thankful for nights untouched. For the ones that didn’t end in pain. For when they forgot I existed. For the hours my body belonged to me. For mornings when I could move.

Try writing that on a worksheet.

So I learned to fake it. Fake normal. Fake fine. Fake everything.

Thanksgiving was a word other people used. Never meant for me.

But now… it's different. People are talking. Not whispering. Not checking over their shoulders first. Just… talking.

Saying “boys” and “trafficking” in the same sentence without choking on it.

That’s new. Feels like someone flicked a light on in a room I didn’t know had a switch.

It messes with me. Boys don’t get hurt like that, right? That’s what they say. Not the way it happened to me.

Hearing it now hits wrong. Like being exposed. A part of me wants to turn away. Disappear. Because if boys “don’t” go through this… Then what does that make me?

It’s strange. Being seen for something everyone used to pretend didn’t happen. Stranger feeling like… maybe they care.

If someone asked what I’m thankful for now— I still wouldn’t say it out loud. Some habits don’t let go easy.

But it’s this: People who don’t look away. Who don’t flinch or shut down when the topic feels too ugly to talk about. Who use their voices when ours are stolen. For people who finally stopped pretending boys don’t break.

Thanks. Really.

—Shawn