So it appears I survived my first major holiday alone. Not just "without family" alone or "single" alone (have done those many times before), but rather actually alone. "Sitting with cats eating a bologna sandwich instead of turkey" alone. It wasn't quite as bad as I feared it might be, although I can't say it was splendid, either, because obviously it wasn't. It's just that, at least in this case, it turned out that a holiday alone made for a similar feeling as every other day alone lately. I guess it's being with people one wants to be with that makes a holiday a special day, and without those people it's rather normal, only with fewer stores open. Good Lord, that sounds corny.
Have been battling loneliness today, though. It's my 5th straight day in a row without seeing a single person who I know, and it's starting to wear on me. There are so many things I am missing these days, and they seem to creep up on me the most when I am by myself. Today while cleaning I found the itinerary for the trip I was supposed to have taken this week, and I sobbed for 5 minutes as if someone had cut a toe off. I recovered pretty quickly, but it's small things like that which can do me in.
I keep meaning to write a more upbeat post since overall things have been going pretty well, at least in all the practical ways, and I want it to be reflected that I'm not curled in the fetal position on my bathroom floor or some such thing. But it seems that what has been true most of my life remains true now, which is that I really feel most inspired to write something when I'm struggling.