Sometimes one's body will speak before their mind. I think of the Benadryl's I had to take to survive my family for a few hours, so I could breathe and not end up in a fetal position on their couch. One time I made the giant mistake of surviving a serious infection in 2001 going to their house on Thanksgiving and just about passing out at the dinner table. What was I so afraid of? It is hard to explain. I kind of knew my visit in fall of 2012, was going to be my last as I projectiled vomited into my purse on the way home, and had been doubled over in her bathroom praying not to die or let her even know how sick I was. The body speaks it always does, and around them I always felt ill. Going no contact for me seriously was a matter of life and death. Last year I had grown too weak to put on the performances. I still am. This Thanksgiving, I will put in my turkey in the morning with stuffing cut up rutabaga to boil and sigh with relief. No more having to worry about having people mad at me because the temperature has dropped to 20 degrees and I can't breathe. No more sitting closed mouth on couches, afraid to say the wrong thing, no more fearing an IBS attack around the anal retentive who spray clouds of Lysol if you dare to poop in their toilet, no more fearing sudden leg infections that come on within 10 minutes with the red spots springing up suddenly. Just relief.