By this time, you should have opened up presents, stockpiled your stash back under the tree, and sat back and looked over it all like the Overlord (or Overlady) of the Material. You should have stuffed your face with Christmas ham or turkey and potatoes, and special Christmas cookies so much that you've popped the top button of your jeans and vowed to start hitting the gym with a vengeance as soon as possible. Maybe you've imbibed enough eggnog to vomit. Maybe, like me, you started your morning off with champagne enough to put you down for not one, but TWO, afternoon naps. (Mmmm, bubbly...what a weakness.) You should have called your friends and family to tell them that you love them. You should have been tickled pink by all the random "Merry Christmas" texts you got from acquaintances. (You should have responded to them, too. Nice is as nice does, after all, to run the risk of sounding like your, or my, elderly Southern ex-deb grandmother.) You should have seen a few important people in person, and remembered the ones you can't see (Nora, my best, the Cheech to my Chong, the Jeff to my Mutt, the Curly to my Larry, the Lucy to my Ethel-- this was such a weird Christmas without you this year. I love you; I miss you; I hope you're having the time of your life in New Zealand, but I can't wait to see you again!).
You should have napped. You should have stretched out on the couch and watched some TV and a movie or two. (The Notebook-- and yes, I couldn't watch the end.) You should have helped your family or friends or whoever you're doing Christmas with cook or clean or prepare for dinner and lent a general hand. You should have gone outside for a walk in a winter wonderland. You should have thrown a snowball and tried to catch a snowflake on your tongue without thinking of acid rain or our deteriorating atmosphere.
You should have celebrated Christmas by doing whatever makes most sense to you, in other words. But I know it can be hard. One reader asked me after a recent post what the single are supposed to do for Christmas. (Um, well, I can tell you from a perfectly candid side-- Christmas for me this year was nearly identical to Christmas for me last year, irregardless of status. Nothing special happens for those in relationships, save possibly the creation of an ulcer worrying if his/her family is going to like you if you're doing the whole "Christmas With The Other Family" thing.)
Christmas is filled with more promise than any other holiday (save maybe Valentine's Day). A single person can feel as if they belong in the Land of Misfit Toys. You are told, trained, and brainwashed from childhood to believe that you'll be unwrapping your heart's desire on the morning of December 25th. But, as another friend of mine recently pointed out, sometimes that's not possible. And I know it.
Sometimes, there is no big surprise. Disappointment can be hard to downplay, but, as I (continuously) get older, I start to realize that certain things no longer are so weighty. A small present haul doesn't mean much compared to a large one as long as you're content with what you have. In fact, Christmas lists start to become non-existent. Mine this year was simple-- new running shoes and plaid Burton luggage. Check, and check, and there was my Christmas, for the most part. There are other little things you learn to deal with with maturity. Don't let the little things bother you-- a lack of a call is not a lack of affection. Take a time-out. Realize people are busy with their own families and plans. Keep yourself busy and keep it from getting you down. I firmly believe that love and care does not have to be stated-- love can be implied, and it doesn't need to be over a phone line. In some cases, an international phone call is just not possible. In other cases, it just may not be the thing to do.
It's not always feasible for the people you want to be there for you to actually be there. You may have to make do without friends, or family, or significant others. "Single" comes in a lot of different styles around Christmas time. "Single" can look like someone who's closest friends haven't come back to the hometown for the holiday; "single" can look like the person who is apart from their S.O; "single" can look like the other blogger I read who decided for economical decisions to stay in New York, by herself, than overload the money and stress of going home to Texas and her parents. Take a look around. Find another "single" person. Two "singles" together aren't "single" anymore.
My biggest savior this Christmas has been my friend's dog that I'm holiday-sitting for. Dubs is a Rhodesian Ridgeback/Rottweiler/Labrador cross, roughly the size of a small pony, very warm at the foot of my bed at night, snores exactly like someone else does, and very dedicated. (Dubs would make a wonderful man.) He's become my (almost realistically sized) shadow. When I start to lose purpose, I turn to Dubs. There's always a walk to be had, a tennis ball to throw, or even just a paw to hold. (He holds hands. It is adorably wonderful.) It's hard to be down when big orange eyes are looking at you like, "Hey, get up. I need you, please. Here is my tennis ball. Make yourself useful."
More than anything, I usually need a use in life. Give me a project or an aim, and I am a happy and productive girl. When a dog has figured this out, I'm taking it to mean I wear it on my sleeve in flashing neon. So I'm thankful for this, this year. It gives me something to do other than mope and stress and think, re-think, and over-think.
What else am I thankful for? I'm thankful for my great, caring friends and wonderfully wacky family. I'm thankful for the very gracious texts I got from people it means a lot that included me in their yearly Christmas-texting rounds. (Hello, a few surprises this year! I must be doing something right to merit those.) I am thankful for the lessons I've learned in the past few months, and the happiness and contentedness I've found through them. I'm thankful for the people who have taken a chance on me. I'm thankful for the things I have learned to say. I'm thankful for the conversation, the arguments, the smiles, and the little things. And I'm thankful for you, dear reader, for your support and time.
Now excuse me. I have to go take the dog on a car-ride to go see some Christmas lights and smoke a cigarette since I can't do it in the house.
Merry Christmas, and, if worse comes to worse, go run rampant with some mistletoe.
XOXO
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