Christmas, just like this.

Being single is great. I genuinely enjoyed Christmas this year, even with its quieter moments. Two things can be true at once: life can be good, and it can still feel tender. I love my life as it is right now, and if it’s meant to evolve, it will. Until then, I’m embracing the life I’ve created.

Everything leading up to Christmas felt good. I put up my tree, watched Christmas movies, wrapped gifts, baked cookies, and celebrated my birthday. I did all of it alone, and I genuinely enjoyed it. I felt content, grounded, and grateful for the traditions I’ve created for myself.

It wasn’t until Christmas Day that things felt different.

I spent the morning at my parents' house celebrating with my parents, brothers, sister-in-law, and nieces and nephew, and the afternoon at my aunt and uncle's house with my mom's family. It was full of laughter, good food, and familiar comfort. Eventually, people began heading home, with their kids and their spouses. One by one, the house emptied. I was the last “kid” left. Just me, my parents, aunts, and uncles.

And that’s when it hit. I started to get emotional. 

I didn’t have a person to go home with. I was going home alone. 

My mom offered to have me come back to their house, and I appreciated the invitation. But I also knew that what I was feeling couldn’t be fixed by simply filling the space. So instead of sitting in the sadness, I made a conscious choice to shift my mindset. Not to ignore the feeling but to move through it.

I got in my car, drove through a neighborhood in St. Paul known for its Christmas lights that I found while scrolling through TikTok and then went to see a movie. And honestly? I enjoyed that too. The lights were beautiful. The movie was a good distraction. It wasn’t a replacement for togetherness, but it was still a meaningful way to spend the evening. Maybe I started something new for me.

On the drive, I video-messaged a friend and shared how lonely the day began to feel. She didn’t rush to make it better. She understood. She’s navigating a similar season, and we reminded each other that strength doesn’t mean pretending it’s easy. It means acknowledging the hard parts and choosing not to let that moment define the day.

One of the quieter challenges of being single during the holidays is that you often don’t get invited into the small moments like cookie baking nights, spontaneous light-viewing drives, casual traditions. Not because people don’t care, but because they’re wrapped up in their families, traditions, and routines.

And sometimes, the past shows up too.

The past has a way of sneaking in during the holidays, often when you least expect it. For both my friend and me, it was past people, people who once played significant roles in our lives. I found myself thinking about a Christmas I once shared with someone: sitting on my couch, watching Home Alone, eating frozen pizza. Simple. Comfortable. Familiar. For my friend, it was seeing someone hard-launch a new relationship that stirred old questions, wondering if he showed up differently now, even in the ways he hadn’t when they were together. Those memories don’t take away from the joy of the present. But they can sit alongside it, reminding you of what has been and what you still hope for.

I love my life. I love the independence I’ve built, the community I have, and the person I continue to become. And I also recognize that this season can be tender even when it’s extremely good.

So as next year comes around, I hope we pause to think about those who are doing life alone, whether by choice or by circumstance. Because when if feels like 98.9878% of the holiday season is centered around couples, kids, and togetherness, it’s easy for single people to feel overlooked.

If you know someone who’s single or alone, invite them. Include them in the small moments.

And if you are that person enjoying Christmas while still feeling its weight, please know this: both can be true. And both are valid.

Happy holidays.

Here is a picture of my younger brother and I with our nieces and nephew after we opened presents.