Why I Spent The Holidays Alone
'Tis the season to be jolly — even if it looks different than usual.
For my entire adult life, I’ve done the exact same thing for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. On Christmas Eve, I’m usually shacked up with Dad’s side of the family out east in the Hamptons. Even as she approached 90 years old, Grandma’s committed as ever to decking the halls with the same homemade stockings we’ve used since I was born. The family eats a bunch of seafood (read: we’re Italian), sips eggnog (Grandma includes at least three types of alcohol), and opens gifts. It culminates with a platter of Christmas cookies, including the family’s signature go-to — the Italian tricolor — and cannolis from Arthur Avenue, followed shortly by me passing out on a small couch that was likely purchased in the prior to 1990.
Come Christmas Day, it’s a quick jaunt on the Port Jefferson ferry back to Connecticut to enjoy the rest of the holiday with Mom, where the biggest decision we make is what movie we’re going to see and if we want to go the classic chicken and broccoli route or get gluttonous with General Tso’s. It’s a Spandex-only affair, which is usually topped off by at least two Hallmark flicks. Then, more tricolor cookies (there is no such thing as too many tricolor cookies).
This year, I’m not doing any of those things.
OK. Most of them. I’m still 100 percent making the cookies.
Between playing it safe with the pandemic and feeling a little overwhelmed with the projects I’ve taken on, staying here in New York just feels like the only legitimate option. On a phone catch-up with one of my best friends this week, she asked me how I felt about spending the holiday solo. If I’m being entirely honest with myself, I feel OK about it. Do I wish things were different? Sure. But for me, this level of acceptance has been a really critical part to 2020 as a whole.
I’m sure many of you can relate. Loads of people across the globe are in a similar situation. There have been a lot of frustrating things over the past nine months. I know that spending my energy being upset about the ones that I cannot control won’t do me any good. Instead, I think about the things I’m grateful for. My health. My community. My family. My home.
… When it came to the Christmas decision, I asked myself if the steps I would need to take to see my family (including a quarantine, car rental, testing, and more) were attainable for me. My answer?
Not now.
Perhaps it’s a little selfish. That’s another big takeaway from the year, though: Sometimes you have to be selfish. You have to protect your space and your energy in ways that may feel uncomfortable to better show up. For both yourself, and for the people you care about.
I feel lucky that that I can make this sort of decision, and appreciative of a family who supports me. Now, I get to make some exciting calls, like where I’m going to order Christmas Eve dinner from and which movie I’ll stream first. Recommendations welcome in the comments below.
That’s all I’ve got for this week. For those of you that are reading this and may be signing off for the rest of the year after today, I wish you all the happiness in the world. Thank you for being a bright spot for me in a crazy, hectic year. (But also, I have some REALLY special content coming in the next few weeks, so don’t forget to open your favorite podcasting app!)
… and if your holiday plan sounds a little bit like mine, I hope me sharing this with you makes you feel a little less lonely. The happiest of holidays, from me and mine (AKA, my fake skinny tall Walmart Christmas tree), to you and yours.
PROMPT: Have you been selfish at times this year? With what? How did that feel?