After Christmas
I don’t know if I can quite articulate what it feels like to be in my late 30’s and the only one left at my parents’ house on Christmas night. The only one of my siblings who isn’t tucked away with their own family when the day has ended.
With the chaos of the holiday finally quieted, I find myself alone in the stillness with my thoughts processing the events of the day; assessing what it means for me in my current journey.
The holiday was what many expected, as they did most years, I would imagine. Presents bought and wrapped and placed under the tree, eager children drifting off to sleep with only hours separating them from the treasures Santa would leave behind.
Family gatherings large or small this year were filled with joy and thankfulness – bright and happy moments.
But for others, the holidays bring struggles as well. While many watched a world of ‘firsts’ and ‘another’ unfold on social media, from “Baby’s First Christmas” to “another” Christmas together, others faced a harder season of “firsts” and “another.
My first Christmas without them.
My first Christmas separated.
My first Christmas divorced.
My first Christmas without my mom.
Another Christmas without my dad.
Another Christmas alone.
Another Christmas without them.
Another Christmas longing.
Another Christmas of struggle.
The end of December brings moments that sometimes make me I feel just a little more single, more childless, than other moments and special events. When the path in life I’ve grown to love fiercely feels just a little harder. When I was more aware that I wasn’t reading from the same script as my peers.
I imagined how the day was unfolding for those with their own children. How many were hosting the holidays in their beautiful homes, while others traveled to see their in-laws or own families.
And I knew that chapter was still out of reach for me.
It was hard to know what would trigger me in any given moment in my 20’s and early 30’s. Often lurking below the surface were often doubts and insecurities that I wouldn’t be creating any magic for my own children, or holding my significant other a little tighter as we created more memories together.
When you know just how much you don’t fit in, it’s hard to not see it day to day. In countless scenarios.
Especially at the holidays.
It is when I’ve often felt the most vulnerable – the most exposed. Out of my routine in the city with my single friends. Subject to looking into a world I longed for but don’t belong to.
As the second child of four, my older brother was married before I was old enough to legally drink at his wedding. My younger sister became a mother early in life. Even my baby sister, born a solid decade after me, created her own little family this year.
But as I lay there on this particular Christmas night alone, I felt more at peace than I had in years past. There are moments of longing to some extent, but it doesn’t hurt like it used to. It has taken years of growth for the sting to fade; for me to realize my situation isn’t right or wrong - simply different.
When I see the dozens of parents my age in their matching Christmas jammies, smiles spread across their families’ faces, I have to make a conscientious effort to redirect my attention. My gratitude.
I focus on what I have. And who I have. I remind myself those around me have loved me and accepted me and my single status long before I did.
And I’m lucky to be able to say that.
My three-year-old nephew tells me I’m his best friend. He is insistent that I sit by him and that our chairs touch at all times. My niece is now a teenager and together we binge Netflix and talk about makeup and boys. My brother’s kids have started to reach adulthood, telling stories at the kitchen table that make us laugh. I relish being their aunt and am grateful for the effort my siblings put into allowing me to moments with their kids.
Many of my friends with kids have allowed me to be an extension of their families. Inviting me to Christmas Eve (Eve) services, and sleepovers when I come to visit, involving me in their nighttime prayers and virtual birthday parties. I’ve become an Auntie Katie to dozens of kids outside of my family – and I’m fortunate my single status allows the time for me to make room each of them.
I know for many, regardless of marital status, the holidays are a complex time of happiness and heartache woven together in the same moments. There is joy and there is longing. Sometimes, one outshines the other until it consumes me, even if for a brief moment. And I have to let myself feel it all.
For those who felt a mixture of emotions this past week, you are not alone. Life is complicated, big and small moments are hard, and not everything is black and white. May you find comfort in this year coming to a close, and look forward to the season of new beginnings, growth and possibilities that awaits us.