Holidays are hard for me. I have no family in Chicago and no set tradition, so over the past 22 years, I’ve done a lot of casting about for ways to fill Christmas.

I’ve lived in Chicago for 31 years and for the first nine years I flew back to California to spend holidays with my immediate family. I stopped doing that when I got tired of my mother’s extreme moods on Christmas Day (which included raging at us). So since 2003, I’ve spent some Christmases by myself (better than facing my mother’s holiday temper), I’ve hosted a few in my home with friends and strangers, I’ve spent several visiting my extended family in Houston (after my mother’s death), and I’ve spent some doing volunteer work.

During my five-year marriage experiment, I spent Christmases with my husband, but that ended when he took a job that had him working on major holidays. Then he ended the marriage and I was on my own again.

My favorite place to be for Christmas is my home in Chicago, so this year, I’m not traveling to visit family in Houston (also I dislike traveling). I want my own tradition here in the city that’s my home. But what is that? Facing December 25 with absolutely nothing to do is terrifying. I’m on new medication and am starting to pull out of chronic depression, which is a big relief, but an empty Christmas Day all alone will sink me. I can’t let that happen.

So I turned to my standby solution when I need support and community: Meetup.com. It’s become hideously expensive, so I don’t know how much longer I’ll use it, but for now it’s helping me out again (I used to pay a Meetup organizer fee that was $98 every six months, but as of 2024 it’s $178 every six months! Yeah.).

One night recently, in a panic about Christmas Day, I began yet another Meetup. This one is called What Are You Doing for the Christmas Season? and within hours of creating it, I regretted it. My depression symptoms were still bad on October 1, and I did NOT feel like organizing. But Meetup.com doesn’t make it easy to un-create a new Meetup, so I decided to delete it later. I hoped no one would notice it.

Between October 1 and November 3 (today) 71 people have joined that Meetup. I’ve started and led 11 Meetups over the past 12 years and this is the fastest any Meetup of mine has ever grown. Clearly I’m not the only one with nothing on the calendar on December 25, 2024.

Before my new antidepressant kicked in, I was horrified by all these members. If I couldn’t figure out my own holiday season, how was I going to lead others? But as the drug took effect, starting this Meetup began to look like an okay idea. On October 22, I scheduled an event. That event happened earlier tonight at — where else? — The Holiday Club in Uptown.

Unfortunately, while my depression symptoms have improved, the grief and shame I’ve been struggling with have not, so I’m still moody and weepy. On my way to tonight’s meet-and-greet Meetup event, I sat on the el and wept: I hated my life, I hated how weak I was, I hated that I didn’t get support and nurturing when I needed it, and I hated being alive. When I got to the Sheridan el stop, I had to stand on the platform and pull myself together so I could lead my event.

I did it. I met 10 people I’d never seen before (and welcomed one friend who joined us) and I guided them in introducing themselves, stating what they hoped to experience with this Meetup, saying what they want to do this Christmas season, and getting volunteers to help organize those activities. It went very well. I told them the idea is to fill December (and maybe November) with activities, and spend that time getting to know each other. During weeks of exploring, caroling, and eating, I expect plans for Christmas Day to naturally evolve.

As happens when I lead Meetups that offer support, people thanked me at the end for organizing it (this happened a lot with the depression Meetup I used to lead). I spoke with my friend on the phone afterwards. He confirmed that it went as well as I thought it had. When he thanked me for doing it, I said, “You’re welcome. You know I do it all for…me.”

I don’t start support groups or tapping circles or gratitude Meetups to help others. I do those things to make my life better. But apparently it’s impossible to create groups like that without helping others. Thus have I learned that I can’t avoid helping people if I keep reaching out when I’m struggling.

I left the Holiday Club thinking, “I did a good thing here.” The raw loneliness I’d felt on the way there was (temporarily) gone. So maybe this December won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll have some new friends and we’ll get some new traditions going. Maybe Christmas Day will even be okay. 

Maybe I’ll put my tree up for the first time since before the pandemic (it has pink ornaments).

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