Over the years, I’ve spent a lot of Christmases alone. Not every year, but enough that it’s become familiar. Comfortable, even. And if I’m being honest, it comes with both pros and cons.

Let’s start with the bright side.

Spending Christmas alone is a socially acceptable excuse to fully unplug. There are no plans to juggle, no rushing from house to house with performative cheer. Just long, uninterrupted stretches of time to truly introvert.

It’s one of the few days of the year where the world seems to slow down enough to match my natural pace.

There’s also the freedom to overindulge without guilt. I eat my favourite foods, graze and I nap. And on Christmas morning, I sleep in until noon like a teenager on summer break.

Could I technically do this with other people around? Sure.

But there’s something deeply comforting about not having a witness to your gluttony. No one commenting on how many cookies you’ve had. No one noticing you’ve gone back for thirds. No one silently clocking that you’re still in your pajamas at 4 p.m.

I can shuffle around in my PJs with crumbs in my hair, like I just don’t care. Because I don’t. That kind of freedom feels luxurious.

Christmas alone is also surprisingly fertile ground for creativity. With fewer distractions and no pressure to be “on,” my mind tends to wander in the best way. I daydream more and ideas float to the surface.

There’s something about the quiet of Christmas Day that makes it easier to hear your own inner voice. And if the my inner dialogue gets annoying, I can tune it out with a Christmas classic, like The Holiday (my all-time fave Christmas rom-com).

That said, it’s not all cozy vibes and creative flow. There’s definitely a stigma attached to spending Christmas alone.

When people ask what I’m doing on Christmas Day, I sometimes feel the urge to lie. Not because I’m ashamed, exactly. I just don’t want them to look at me like I’ve said my dog just died.

Or worse, the well-meaning scramble to “fix” it.

They might immediately invite me to their family Christmas. No thank you.

I’d much rather spend the holidays on my own than with people I barely know, making polite small talk over lukewarm stuffing.

My family isn’t especially tight knit, so even gatherings with relatives can feel oddly formal. Like an awkward high school reunion where there’s too much to catch up on: “So, what have you been up to for the past decade?” Nothing like a life summary served with cranberry sauce.

Another downside is how completely everything shuts down on Christmas Day.

During the lead-up to Christmas, I do a lot of grocery shopping. Even though I know stores will only be closed for one day, I buy food like it’s the apocalypse: Enough vegan cheese to survive a long winter and backup snacks for the backup snacks.

There’s something about knowing you can’t just pop out for oat milk that triggers a strange survival instinct.

Oh, and did I mention the existential dread?

The holiday season always gets me thinking about the passage of time. Every time Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” plays I’m reminded that another year has come and gone. I’m a year older, but am I any wiser? And what will Christmas look like next year and the year after that?

If I’m not careful, I can ride the wave of existential thoughts to dark and scary places: my fears about aging, regrets about the past year, sentiments about my exes.

With all this in mind, I’ve definitely been tempted to Google “places that don’t celebrate Christmas” and buy a one-way ticket on December 1st. Some place that is warm, quiet and blissfully unaware of jingling bells.

But instead, I usually stay put.

I make the most of the solitude. I lean into the good food and let myself enjoy the slowness without judging it. And honestly, that feels like a small act of self-respect.

If you’re spending Christmas alone this year, I hope you do the same.

Feel like doing some cozy reading over the holiday? Here are some blog posts fomr Christmases past:

8 Ways to Spend Christmas Alone
7 Things I’m Saying Hell No To This Christmas
An Introvert’s Secret Christmas Wishes
A Recipe For Introverted Christmas Bliss
A Grumpy Cat Christmas

That last one was from the very first year I started Introvert Spring. It’s fun to look back and see how things have evolved.

And if you didn’t know, I’m also a comedian. I wrote a dark comedy Christmas song called Santa’s a Pr3dator. It’s not for everyone, but if you enjoy irreverent holiday humour, watch the music video here.

However you’re spending the holidays, I hope you give yourself permission to enjoy them in the way that feels most natural to you.

Quiet can be festive too.

Xo,

Michaela