Single people, especially those new to a community,
experience a unique social challenge as holidays approach.
Holiday conversation dies when we enter the room. Hovering
in the air is not only mistletoe but also the unspoken question,
"Must I invite this person over for holiday dinner?"
When I literally wrote the book on moving (Making the Big
Move: How to transform relocation into a Creative Life
Transition, New Harbinger 1999), I included a chapter on special
needs of the newly-moved single person. Everyone I interviewed
agreed: Skip the invitations - we'll get our own life.
Most adults, even if they're single, have calendars. They
know a holiday is coming. Their major issue is not, "How will I
get through a holiday alone?" It's, "What do I tell the friends
and relatives who call to see if I'm OK?"
Not everybody enjoys holidays with family - their own or
anybody else's. Some have memories of the mom who refereed the
family fights, the cousin who had to sleep it off on the sofa and
the black sheep uncle who timed his phone calls for dinner time
so he wouldn't have a lot of explaining to do. When assured of
anonymity, people told me how they really spend a solitary
holiday: "Put on an old pair of sweats and get some writing
done." "Order Chinese food and watch videos." "Take the dog and
head for the woods."
Visiting strangers can be exhausting. Men get off easier.
They watch football in the living room, drinking beer, with
conversation limited to cheers and cuss words. For single women,
holidays mean always having to say, "Do you need help in the
kitchen?" Never mind that, for the rest of the year, our dinners
move directly from microwave to paper plate.
Female guests are expected to join kitchen conversations
about childbirth, menopause and/or the latest deep-rooted medical
exam. I have learned - the hard way - that it is considered gross
to respond with a story about your dog's irregular digestive
system or the time your cat got liver disease and had to be fed
through a tube.
True, a very young person may be grateful for an invitation.
My friend Sharon still remembers her first Thanksgiving in San
Francisco, twenty years ago, when she was alone with a frozen
burrito and no credit cards.
But those who can afford a catered meal or a plane ticket are
home alone by choice. They wince at invitations to "Come join
the other waifs and strays," or, "We're having so many people we
won't notice an extra."
However, it is still appropriate to send a funny card, extend
holiday greetings, or even ask, "What are you doing for the
holidays?" I've been especially honored by people who said, "I
would enjoy having you over but I will understand if you say no,"
and they do.
We'll be truly liberated when we can answer openly, "I am
spending the day at the dog park," or, "I'm going to disappear
into my recliner with the new Dick Francis and a bowl of organic
popcorn."
These are not ways of coping with loneliness but of
celebrating solitude and honoring the way we have chosen to
construct our lives. And the would-be hosts might find
themselves responding, "Gee, I wish I could join you, if I didn't
have all those darn relatives coming over"
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About The Author
Cathy Goodwin, Ph.D. is an author, career coach and speaker.
She works with midlife, mid-career professionals who want to
make a fast move to career and life freedom. Visit her
website, http://www.movinglady.com. Subscribe to a free
twice-monthly ezine http://www.movinglady.com/subscribe.html
Free teleclasses http://www.movinglady.com/classes.html
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