The holiday season is often painted as a time of joy, togetherness, and celebration. But for some of us, the reality couldn’t be more different. Christmas of 2017 was one such season for me—a Christmas I spent at the Coney Island Psychiatric Hospital in New York. Marked by loneliness and reflection, it also became a surprising source of peace and sanctuary.
That December, I found myself in a place I never imagined I’d be. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve, and New Year’s Day passed in the confines of the hospital. Initially, the weight of my circumstances felt unbearable. I had never spent Christmas alone before.
From my hospital window, I watched snow blanket the streets below. I saw families, friends, and couples rushing to their celebration destinations. Their laughter and joy seemed to taunt my isolation. I yearned to be with the people I love, to feel that sense of connection that the holidays promise. Yet, in the midst of my depression, an unexpected realization emerged.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I was safe. Safe from the external pressures that had weighed me down. Safe from the feeling of responsibility for burdens that were never mine to carry. These weren’t just ordinary burdens; they were psychological manipulations that imposed an unwarranted sense of duty on me. Whether the people involved were aware or not, their expectations had become chains.
In that hospital, I was free from criticism, free from being under a magnifying glass. There were witnesses around me, people who ensured that no harm could come to me. I didn’t have to meet anyone’s expectations or carry anyone else’s pain. For the first time, I felt immense relief.
What I realized during those quiet, snowy nights was that what I craved wasn’t the reality of my relationships—it was an illusion, a fantasy of what I wished they could be. I dreamed of a family who prioritized God without using Him as a means to serve their own desires. A family who truly understood unconditional love. A family who encouraged growth together, who didn’t compete but uplifted one another.
This ideal family wasn’t my reality. It had never been my reality. But in that realization, there was a strange kind of solace. It wasn’t about giving up on the idea of love or family—it was about understanding that sometimes, the things we yearn for aren’t meant to be ours in the way we imagine. And that’s okay.
That season of loneliness taught me a valuable lesson. When we find ourselves alone, uncomfortable, and in pain, there is often a deeper lesson waiting for us. It’s not easy—it’s agonizing at first. But if we persevere, the pain begins to dull. What was once a sharp ache transforms into a tiny pinch.
Through this process, we grow stronger, more self-aware, and more capable of finding peace in loneliness. And when we do, we open the door to a future where the love we receive is built on authenticity and mutual respect.
As you navigate this holiday season, I encourage you to reflect on your own experiences of loneliness and what they may be teaching you. Share your thoughts and stories in the comments below—let’s create a community where we uplift and support one another.
If you’ve ever felt the weight of loneliness or struggled with expectations during the holidays, know that you’re not alone. Let’s journey through this season together, finding lessons in the quiet moments and hope in the most unexpected places.
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Share your thoughts below, and let’s connect as a community. Together, we can transform pain into growth and isolation into understanding.
Click HERE to watch Dry Creek Wrangler School’s YouTube on Finding Peace in Loneliness
