I had not spent a holiday alone until the divorce.
I went straight from my parent’s home to my husband’s bed.
For 15 years holiday’s were spent splitting time with both sets of families.
Christmas Eve with one and Christmas day with the others.
There was a frenzied pace to it all that many years left me scratching my head as to why I felt so unsatisfied.
But on that first Christmas Eve after my separation, as I sat alone in my home, I felt the pain in my solitude. How I would have given anything in that moment to have the chaos back.
Each holiday since, I am confronted with the opportunity for one day to be purely alone.
A day when the world stops, stores close and families pull tight, I am given a choice to sit in pain or live in my solitude.
I choose the later this year.
I wont pretend I did something magnificent.
I wont tell you there weren’t glimpses of raw emotion that crept out.
What I will say is that I ran.
I made myself dinner.
I soaked in the lights on my tree while presents were wrapped.
And on a day when the world tells me I should not be alone,
I faced my solitude with gratitude.