Dreading Independence Day

Image Credit: Sandi Mager

As a kid, I loved the Fourth of July. Sneaking my first sip of beer, eating homemade vanilla ice cream with strawberries, and “writing” my name with sparklers are all treasured childhood memories I created on Independence Days in the 1990s and early 2000s.

But as an adult, I dread the holiday. Loud fireworks trigger my PTSD and make me anxious for animals. I’ve learned enough about the U.S. government’s history of violence, oppression, and imperialism that patriotic anthems and American flags rarely make me feel good anymore. I’ve lived long enough to witness some dark chapters of American history. I’m witnessing one now.

I love my home, and I appreciate the freedoms I do have. But there was a time when I naively believed this was truly the land of the free, not the land of the free-er than some. The home of the brave, not the home of some brave folks and some very greedy people in power. I miss my naivety; I miss my innocence.

I miss watching The Patriot and feeling proud. I miss standing for the national anthem because I genuinely want to, not because it’s what my grandpa would want me to do. I miss being awed by firework displays instead of stressed out by them.

Independence Day makes me sad, and I can’t fix it. What I can do: enjoy my home, enjoy my loved ones, and enjoy some good food.

Happy Indepence Day, y’all.

However you celebrate the holiday — or don’t — be good to yourself and others (no bottle rocket fights, please and thank you). I’ll be drinking and snacking and cuddling my critters until the noise stops.