Photo above: Brian Benefield with his wife Cecilie and his mother Yvonne

By Brian Benefield

[Brian is the author of the periodic column “Cobb Cuisine, Culture and Community”]

As we get ready to gather around the table with family and friends, I am reminded by that little voice in my head that we all possess to be thankful.  It’s hard to believe that my wife, Cecilie, and I are coming up on our fifteen-year wedding anniversary, which actually occurs on Thanksgiving this year.  Of course, I think that it occurs on Thanksgiving every year, but I don’t think that’s how the calendar works. 

I am what you could call a late bloomer in many ways—having spent most of my 20s and early 30s making bad decisions and trying to ruin my life.  I was a bookworm and a nerd until the age of thirteen when my father died by his own hand.  What followed is nothing but pain, rage, and anger.  And I took that anger out on many people who did not deserve it.  Getting a fake ID in my late teens and wandering into bars trying to pick a fight, just to feel something, anything. 

Most of my 20s and 30s were a blackout, bloody blur, and a waste of life.  I woke up in my early 30s in a crappy apartment with empty beer bottles strewn about the floor and a busted lip.  As I looked in the mirror, I decided that this was no way to live but a way to die and decided to seek help.  I sought out much-needed counseling from a county facility, and as you can imagine, the therapists were hit or miss.  After chatting with a few, I encountered a lady who seemed to understand my situation and also learned that it is not uncommon. 

My mother, Yvonne, accompanied me to several of these therapy sessions, which was difficult but ultimately very beneficial.  What I learned is that hate and anger might as well be cancer because it eats you up from the inside.  I finally figured out at that point that you have to speak about unspeakable things and continue to talk about suicide.  Because you never know how it can help you or who else can benefit from your message. 

It may sound cliche, but love kills the demon.  Cecilie and I met in a bar.  Imagine that.  She worked part-time as a bartender and gave me her stage name, Babette, on a matchbook but wrote the correct phone number.  Like any swinging bachelor, I threw my jeans on my weight bench that night, which was kind of like a makeshift closet.  Luckily for me, I did not wash the said jeans and found the matchbook several days later, gave the number a call, and the rest, as they say, is history.  She may not realize it, but she helped fix a broken man.  And I love her for that.  

Today and every day, I take stock of the little things because, more often than not, they are not things at all.  Tiny moments in time and laughter that make your sides hurt are the big things.  The way my wife makes a sandwich for my lunchbox is artistry at the highest level.  Recently, taking a drive to the North Georgia mountains with my family to see the beautiful fall foliage reminds me that everything changes.  No one is who they were forty years ago or even yesterday, and all each of us can do is strive to be better than we were the day before.  

So I’m thankful for many things on this holiday.  Thankful that I woke up.

Thankful I have food to eat.  Thankful that I have a roof over my head.  And most thankful that I have people around me who love hard and forgive quickly.  Forgiving people who you disagree with or even despise.  It’s not for them but for you.  It helps free the soul, and for that, I am eternally thankful. 

Brian Benefield is an Atlanta native born in Dekalb County, who has lived in Cobb since 2003. He has worked in Hospitality, Marketing, Real Estate, and most recently Food Tourism. Married to Cecilie Benefield for 12 blissful years. They have a dog, Miss Pickles. Hobbies are mountain biking, running, gardening, and trying new recipes in the kitchen. Member of Les Marmitions cooking club since 2016, where we cook 5-course meals with local Atlanta chefs.