What’s so bad about being alone at Christmas?
I’m no Scrooge. And I’m no introvert either.
I know that this year has been, and this impending Christmas will be, very difficult for some people. Maybe they’ve lost loved ones this year, or their jobs, or their sanity, as a result of this global pandemic. And for them, I have the utmost sympathy.
I am someone who, for various reasons, shuns the typical, family-oriented week-long food and drink binge celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, in favour of jumping ship to another country for two to three weeks, usually one that offers a sunnier clime in December, and always one that offers a big dose of different people, culture, food and sights. I make this jump this alone, with excited anticipation for the prospective sensory awakening and new friends I am yet to meet.
This Christmas will be different, of course. I had gone through various stages of indecision: deciding that I would stay in my flat in London; plotting an escape to any country that would accept me (few at the time of writing, as the UK has maintained some of the highest covid rates in the world throughout the year); settling on Dubai; deciding that a trip to Dubai was extravagant and unnecessary during the winter waves of a global pandemic and finally, preemptively hiring a car and renting an AirBnB on the coast of Kent, before having the decision made for me by the introduction of tier 4, which currently bans travel out of such areas, London being one of them.
Even as I started to mull over the earlier options, I was met with mixed and mostly aghast responses at the thought that I would be spending Christmas alone in London. I was leaning towards being at home anyway, but the new confines of tier 4 actually yielded some relief, because it seems socially more acceptable to spend Christmas alone if the decision is apparently not your own.
I appreciate that I am part of a smaller proportion of the British population that does not celebrate Christmas with family, or perhaps Christmas at all. But enter “Christmas alone” into your favourite search engine and you’ll be met with a plethora of results about how to “get through it” and stave off the inevitable loneliness and depression you’ll experience by spending Christmas solo.
My word of the month for December is “perspective”. When I explain my eventual 2020 Christmas plans (being at home, eating, drinking and watching what I want, with some video calls scattered nicely throughout), I am still making the mistake of qualifying them.
I know that it’s absolutely fine to spend Christmas solo. But even now I find myself saying “this is fine with me, because yes, it’s been a shitty year, but I am lucky to have a roof over my head, clothes to wear, and what I want to eat and drink. Others don’t have these things, and have had it worse than me this year, so it is not a problem if I have to spend Christmas alone this year.”
I firmly believe these things, this indeed is my perspective, but I shouldn’t have to use it to justify a Christmas spent alone! Nevertheless, people are agreeing enthusiastically, because my choice for them is not really my choice, it’s a pandemic exception to society’s rule that Christmas is family time and anything else is just weird and depressing.
In what shouldn’t be a side note — in 2020, Passover fell during the first lockdown in the UK and most areas were in the highest tier of restrictions during Eid, Diwali and Hanukkah. Where was the mainstream pity and sympathy for the communities that couldn’t celebrate these festivals in the traditional way, with their families due to pandemic restrictions? Conspicuously absent.
Being alone and being lonely are two very different things. It’s also quite possible to feel lonely when you’re not alone.
Merry Christmas to you all, wherever you are and whoever you’re with. May you have the happiest Christmas: a period of rest doing what you want, and with, or without, whoever your heart desires.
