Eight years ago, I couldn’t get home for the holidays so a close friend invited me to spend Thanksgiving with her family, including herself, her mom and her brother.  We both happened to be recovering from devastating losses at the time.  She lost her dad and a boyfriend.  I was mourning the end of a long-term relationship with a man I was sure I was going to marry.  I was dreading the thought of the holidays that year.  Even though it’s supposed to be a joyful time filled with family, friends and good cheer, there’s something about the holiday season that also makes me want me to pull a blanket over my head and not come out until it’s all over.  That particular Thanksgiving, I remember sitting at the table, surrounded by her beautiful family, smiling and laughing, but feeling hollow inside.  Her mother seemed to see right through my act.  She looked at the pair of us and said: “LONELINESS ISN’T CANCER.”

Pipeline

Her words, blunt and direct, ended the pity party right then and there.  She had recently lost her partner, her husband, and the father of her children to a devastating battle with cancer.  She’s the kindest and warmest person I know—always taking care of others, perpetually feeding strays like myself and surrounding us with love.

While I was feeling sorry for myself, thinking what might have been, wondering if I’d made the worst decision of my life, and thinking that I might have to spend the rest of my life alone, she had already faced and overcome tremendous loss.  She lost both of her parents at a young age, she lost her best and closest friend before 40, and then, the icing on the cake, her soul mate as well.

Yet she opened her home to me and others, invited us in and took care of us. I’m a pretty good actor; I can put on a happy face and feign joy when I’m feeling lost.  That morning, also facing a major failure at work, I had crossed over railroad tracks on my way to her house and actually visualized myself getting out of the car, lying down on the tracks and waiting for a train to come along and end it all.  But I showed up for Thanksgiving with a huge smile on my face, my gift of chocolate covered strawberries in hand, and hugged everyone like nothing was wrong.  I’m good at this.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want to bring others down.  Maybe it’s because I was taught to put a happy face on it, and to smile, even when you want to cry.  Ultimately, I know there are always others who have it worse.  There are people suffering in the world who really have something to complain about.  They’re not just lonely.  They can’t put food on the table or feed their children.  They’ve just lost the roof over their heads.  They’ve been abandoned by their family, they don’t have friends.  No job, addicted to drugs, in prison, no future.  Set apart.  Tarnished.  Broken.

I thought I was different.  At least I didn’t have those kinds of problems.  I thought I was good.  She saw right through me.

Just because you don’t have those particular problems doesn’t mean you’re ok.  Emotions are real and they’re not any less powerful because you outwardly appear to have it all together.  But you still have a choice, and I believe that was the point of her message that day.  You can choose to wallow or you can choose to reach out.  Life doesn’t end just because you’re miserable or because you’re not happy or can’t get the things that you want, the way that you want them, at the time that you want them. It doesn’t end when the love of your life dies from cancer and you want to jump down into the grave and join them.  You can either lie down on the tracks or you can put one foot in front of the other and keep moving.  Two steps back can still mean one step forward.

This October, I ran the Eighth Annual Bob Benedetto Memorial Run in Ventura, California.  The family set up this annual event to honor their father while providing scholarships for social work students and benefitting the mentally ill.  We drove down to Ventura and I ran it in support of my friend, her mother and brother.  I also ran it for myself.  My friend’s mom is not letting tragedy define her, and I will not let loneliness or a perennial bout of the “holiday blues” define me.

8th Annual Bob Benedetto Memorial 5K, Ventura CA

The holidays can be great, but even with the decorating, gift giving, caroling, the string of non-stop parties, the mistletoe, they can also be a major bummer.

Seeing thousands of drunk Santas roaming the streets of San Francisco for SantaCon on Saturday didn’t put me in the holiday spirit.

"The Holidays Get Wasted: A Day at SantaCon" by Ryan O'Connell

It made me feel murderous.  (I was having lunch at a Thai place on Polk Street with a friend when a co-ed group of about a dozen “Santas” walked in and sat down.  “Oh look, it’s Hooker Santa,” my friend said sarcastically in something not even close to a stage whisper.  Who knew Mrs. Claus wore hot pants with red fish net stockings and knee-high black leather boots?)

So maybe we’re just grumps?

If some of the trappings of Christmas that are supposed to ring in the season make you feel empty, you’re not pathetic, and it doesn’t make you a Scrooge filled with the spirit of Bah Humbug.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas!

You’re also not alone and you can do something about it.  Get outside of yourself.  Reach out, and maybe look a little more closely at some of your friends who seem like they have it “all.”  Ask someone how they are and really mean it.  Maybe stop to listen for the reply instead of walking away mid-question.

There are a million volunteer opportunities and people who need help this holiday season.  Does it make sense to wait until January 1 to make New Years’ resolutions or does it make more sense to act now?  You know, like before it’s too late.

A Christmas Carol