Single All The Way

For Christmas this year, eleven of us spanning three generations will pile into my parents’ home, and when I enter the house on Christmas morning, I know exactly what I’ll see: stockings stuffed to the brim, cookie crumbs that Santa left behind, lights twinkling on the tree, and the ocean waves crashing just beyond. As I walk in, I’ll smell coffee brewing, and bacon cooking, and hear Kurtis Blow’s Christmas Rappin’, but not before I get dressed and head over from the guest house.

I never feel as single as I do at Christmas time.

It’s the season of pregnancy and engagement announcements; the season of family photos and holiday cards, of matching pajamas and public displays of having it all. Still, for the single, the childless, the grieving, and so many others, it’s the season of painstaking awareness of everything that’s missing.

A couple of weeks ago, when my brother casually asked if I knew what the sleeping arrangements for Christmas would be, I started doing hostess math. You know the formula, it’s the same one you do when you travel with friends; it usually starts with, How many couples do we have?

There are four couples, and the house has four bedrooms.
One of which is mine.
One of which is my brother’s.
But we’re both single, and there are four couples.
And every couple needs a bedroom.

I passive-aggressively texted the family group chat: So, where are Karson and I supposed to be staying for Christmas?

My mom replies with the standard conclusion. The inevitable answer to this year’s hostess math equation: the single people will crash in the guest house.

I’ve always seen my choice to get divorced at twenty-three as one of the chicest things about me. I take so much pride in the fact that, at such a young age, I looked around and said, This is not the way I want to be loved. I’m forever indebted to the version of me who chose herself, and with that choice, has given me permission to do the same every day since.

Still, it’s hard being single in a world that celebrates romantic partnership as the ultimate reflection of actualization, of growing up. And it’s much harder at thirty-three than it was at twenty-three.

I can’t tell you how many times I have cried tears of exasperation about my singleness, feeling like my sexiest years are slipping away while I fail to find “the one”. When I would do this in session with my old therapist, she’d always cut me off, saying, “Alright Kayci, then don’t be single anymore. There are a lot of people who would be happy to be in a relationship with you, and you know that, so if you just want a relationship, if not being single is the goal, pick one.”

Nothing stopped my spiral of self-pity quite like reminding me that there is always a choice to be made. There's always a relationship to be in, but as hard as it is to be single in December, I've learned enough to know that not wanting to be single is an awful reason to be in a relationship.

And I know that no one wants to punish me, or any other single person, for failing to find a lasting love. People aren't looking to rub their joy and abundance in the faces of those grieving or forced to do without, but 'tis the season.

When I let my family know how I was feeling, my parents offered to give up their bedroom for the holiday. The last thing my mom or dad would want is for me to feel unwelcome in their home at Christmas. But I’ll be in the guest house. I insisted. Even I understand how the math works.

If you're spending this holiday season in abundance with the love(s) of your life, I hope your steak is so juicy and your lobster is so buttery. I'm grateful to exist in a world full of love, and the love you've found only makes that more true.

And if you're finding the holiday spirit a bit confronting this year, as I often do, I hope you know you're not alone. I hope you give yourself permission to let your loved ones in on the heaviness the season holds, so that even if you have to carry it, you don't have to carry it alone. I hope you make a gratitude list and keep it folded in your pocket on the hardest days. As for me, I'm grateful for breakfast burritos on Christmas morning, for the privilege of giving up my bed for my elders, and for the space and time to be together. I hope your steak is so so juicy and your lobster is so buttery. But more than anything, I hope you remember that January is just around the corner.