Christmas can be a lonely time for single people. But, as I face another season under the mistletoe by myself, I'm determined not to wallow. It's time to get into the Christmas spirit.
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I hate that I've fallen a little behind with the whole thing. The tree is not yet up. Usually the kids and I put it up on my birthday, two weeks out, but they weren't with me on the day. It will go up this weekend. I will do it myself and revel in the fact that this is the first time in ages there hasn't been a fight because someone lost interest the moment the tree was out of the box.
The Christmas bunting has been up all year, so too a 18-year timeline of Santa photos (and this is the only non-negotiable, the kids know they have to go and get one in the one spare day they have in town, they've promised me they will), so too the Ikea lamp shaped like a tree and some fairy lights near the front door. Maybe I'm actually way ahead.
But I haven't planned my Christmas menu, let alone ordered a ham. That's one thing I love doing, cooking enough food to feed the extended family I don't need to cook for anymore and eating leftovers for weeks.
I haven't even bought any presents. Or put too much thought into what I could get people. That will happen soon. It has too. I hate the crowds and the online delivery cut-off date is closing in.
But what I have been doing is thinking about how to use what's left of December to get to 2020 in a completely different frame of mind. I've spoken to a few good friends in recent weeks, friends who are, like me, glad to see this decade gone. We've all got this feeling that 2020, the roundness of it all, is going to be a year of change. A fresh start. You'll bring it up and they'll go, yes, that's how I feel too. We can feel it.
I'm happy to be that crazy aunt who no one is sure where she fits in but we're glad she's at our party.
It's about making more time for people. The people who matter. Spending less energy on those who don't. Just come over and let me feed you. Bring your family. I love whacking sausages in white bread and telling your kids it's a gourmet meal. It's about not feeling bad when I invite myself over to your place either. Thank you for your hospitality. I'll help you clean up. It's about being happy that people want to actually invite you places, out for drinks, to parties, even to their own family Christmas celebrations. I'm happy to be that crazy aunt who no one is sure where she fits in but we're glad she's at our party.
I had an "aunt" like that, Judy. I have no idea to this day who she was but she was at every Christmas lunch my family ever had. She poked around, wine glass in hand, making sure the table was never empty, topping up people's drinks, washing up. Like Judy, I come in pretty handy at a party.
It's also important to find time for immediate family. If there's one good thing about spending Christmas on your own it's not having to deal with those relatives that always, without fail, turn the day on its head. My immediate family of three can just eat and chat and share the love, even if it's only for a few hours on the day.
Increasingly I realise I might not have them at my table as they go off to forge new lives of their own. It's about making the most of what time I can get them to sit still. Precious.
But most importantly it's about making time for yourself. Several times in the past couple of weeks my girlfriends have asked if I'm okay, you're unusually quiet, on edge, you seemed a little down. I'm just tired, tired of a lot of things, and it's all due to the fact that I haven't been very kind to myself for the past year. I've made stupid choices, done some stupid things. I'm done with that.
So yes, Christmas can be a lonely time for single people. But it can also be a time of self-reflection and change, free of the distractions. The best gift you can give yourself.