After almost a decade of spending the holidays without family, I can finally say with certainty that it does get easier…not just easier, but actually enjoyable. This is the first Thanksgiving I’ve spent alone and didn’t feel sad. I even drank, and it didn’t turn me into a downer…which I thought was odd. I did cry though…a lot. I burst into plenty of tears over the past couple of days, but not because I was sad. I cried because I was happy, and somewhat relieved, that for once in my life a holiday finally felt good.
I didn’t do anything special. I ran a simple homemade turkey trot around my neighborhood, went on a short hike with my dog, and then had a drink while decorating for Christmas and blasting all the classics. I sang along while placing ornaments on the tree. After the tree was up, I made myself a really nice steak dinner and then sat on the couch watching reality TV. Once it got dark, I turned off all my lights, shut all my curtains, and sat on the floor in front of my tree, staring at the Christmas lights until I was ready to go to bed.
I cried. I cried at the idea that one day this won’t be my life. My holidays won’t be spent alone, and they may have to be shared. I don’t know how I’ll feel then until I get there, but I do know that I’ll miss this moment…sitting in front of my tree alone, crying.
While it may sound odd, holidays alone have become somewhat sacred to me. The holidays are a time I get to spoil myself and think only about me, and everyone else is too busy with their own families for me to worry about them.
What if this is the last holiday I spend alone? I don’t know the answer to that. And why does that idea scare me? Because change is scary, and you never know if the change will be for the better. Why do I feel guilty for enjoying my holiday alone this year? Because the world tells you holidays aren’t meant to be spent alone, let alone enjoyed alone… good thing the world doesn’t have to matter.