So You’re Going to be Alone for Christmas
It’s time to find out how wrong you’ve been about the holidays.
Let’s face it: you’ve been brainwashed. You think the holidays are a time to be with friends and family, and that nothing could be sadder than spending the season solo. Boy, are you wrong.
With travel truncated and pandemic numbers on a brutal rise, maybe you’re spending the season alone. Perhaps for the first and only time. Far from being a drag, this singular celebration might be the opportunity of a lifetime. When else will you be able to skirt the charged negotiations of who makes the mashed potatoes, avoid your sneering sister-in-law’s sideways comments during sit-down dinner, and keep all the Christmas cookies for yourself?
I default to Christmas here because, well, it’s timely. But, I hope there’s enough to transfer to sacred days of all stripes.
As a seasoned seasonal loner — Little Match Girl after her glow up — I’m here to extol the virtues of a holiday party of one. The key, folks, is a little foresight. So to help you celebrate in high style, I’ve compiled a list of hot, practical tips to help you see your very own twinkle lights.
It’s time to find out how wrong you’ve been about the holidays.
Santa flies alone, bitches.
Here’s what to do:
Clean your house. While my favorite use of the expression “clean your house” is when my friend Raechel uses it to tell me I need to drop a romantic dud by the wayside, I mean it quite literally here. Clean your house. Pretend your fussiest guests are coming over and make that joint pristine before you go to bed the night before. Nobody wants to wake up to a sink full of dishes on Christmas morning or get dragged down on New Year’s Day by that looming basket of unfolded laundry. Scrub your tub, rehang that picture that has gone slightly askew, and set your spot in order.
Announce your comms strategy. Decide in advance how you want to manage your phone and screen time, and then tell anybody who will listen. The presumption of availability in a pandemic — particularly as it adheres to those of us who live alone — is rotten. Just because we could theoretically sit down in front of our phones or computers, doesn’t mean we should. So, consider scheduling Zoom meetings or phone calls in advance with set time limits. I love a wholesale phone and internet embargo. Just be sure to get out ahead of your messaging so you don’t return to a flurry of worried and wounded communiques.
Eat moodily and well. Eat whatever you want. Really. There’s no one way to holiday dine, and suddenly, you’re no longer beholden to tradition, regional favorites, family habits, or house rules. Take back your dinner. And your breakfast. And your lunch. And don’t forget dessert. The important thing here is to make eating a delight and determine what you’re going for in advance. Don’t waste your day deciding. Do you want the cozy comfort of family favorites or do you want to take the opportunity to try something new and edgy? Will you chef or treat yourself by ordering in? Do you want punctuated meals or a longform picnic? Have a couple of fancy snacks on hand in case something goes awry.
Get dressed. Hear me out: I’m not saying you have to abandon your sweatpants. But, do mark your day with some sartorial flair. Maybe you compile a whole holiday outfit, or maybe you just put on a red lip with your pjs. The point is: feel festive, not frowzy.
Get outside. In a time when our world is circumscribed in very particular ways, it feels nice to change our horizon lines. So stretch your legs on a neighborhood stroll, put a blanket out in the backyard, go for a hike, or watch the sunset with a cocktail in hand.
Make something. Make it whimsical — something unurgent and undertaken for its own sake. Write handwritten notes to pals, watercolor the scene outside your window, record a holiday bop for your friends, bake some cookies, compile a playlist, plop some plants in new pots, whatever. I’ve had some recent success with these breezy, aromatic, and beautiful DIY citrus garlands (each slice of fruit looks like a stained glass window in miniature!). And I have my sights set on Deb Perelman’s “totally doable” gingerbread Yule log for next week. Whatever you choose, make your supplies list and check it twice.
Take something. Reward your active creation with a little passive consumption. Cue up your favorite holiday movies, buy a magazine, save that new television series for a snack, or set aside a beefy paperback book. [My late December 2020 book stack, you ask? The novels Interior Chinatown and The Transit of Venus; a new historical nonfiction Tecumseh and The Prophet; and The Collected Poems of Robert Hayden.]
Feel your feels. Okay, so I know I’ve been glib about blah blah family and blah blah friends, but I’m not the tin man. I got a heart! So let me tell you that having spent many a Christmas alone, it’s not all cheese plates and tinsel. Amidst all the decoration assembly and crudité arrangement, the swaths of potting soil and seasonal soundtracks, you might feel that preprogrammed holiday high octane. But the beauty of being on your own is that you won’t blow your stack at the dinner table or have to scuttle off to the bathroom to have a good cry. If you miss your people — specifically or abstractly — just miss your people. In true Little Match Girl fashion, I miss my grandmother most in my holiday solitude. She often used to say, neither gravely nor apologetically, “Ah me, life. Nobody gets out of it alive.”
Do something ceremonial. Put the star on top of your proverbial tree. Light some candles for your loved ones, say a prayer, cast a spell, sing a spiritual, write your longings or gratitudes or devotions in a journal, pour one out for your homies, make a wish. December holidays fall on the darkest days of the year, so keep your rituals of light close.
If you’re celebrating alone: ah me. Have so much fun. I hope you can cherish your day instead of dread it.
Wishing you and yours a safe and happy season.
