Thanksgiving 2010 was a sunny day in San Diego, and I had nowhere to go for dinner. This scene was scary. It fed into my history of isolating and living inside my head, away from family and other relationships. I usually made plans to be with friends on holidays, but it didn’t work out that year. Of course I could go see a movie, make a meal for one, or just pretend the day didn’t hold special meaning. But that wasn’t true.

Still, my lonely shame stopped me from making a reservation for one and eating alone. It feels awkward to go out alone when all others are together. So I went to a movie and felt tense until I could blend into the dark there. It was a very lonely day.

Since then, I’ve noticed that a number of our members trace their sobriety date to some past holiday. I can interpret that in two ways: either people see the light and get sober in those eight or nine days a year—when most things are closed—or, more likely, they don’t plan for the impact of the day on their life, give up, and act out. I know because it has happened to me.

But since 2010, I’ve realized the importance of planning for the holidays, and of making sure I have camaraderie during those days. Since then, I’ve spent each holiday with friends or fellow SAs. Not doing so could be a threat to my sobriety. But when I’m not too ashamed to make it known that I have nothing planned and I’m single, I’ll get two or three invitations for the day. Others seem more willing to open up their homes to me than I had ever imagined.

In the past, I felt shame for not having anywhere to go—and I would hide the shame of being alone, much as I hid my addiction before SA. Today I know I that I can let myself be vulnerable and let others be part of my holiday. I’ve benefited, and stayed sober.