Society says we should be jolly and happy and thankful and joy-filled during these days. Commercials tell us to feel the magic and the wonder. But we don’t all feel it. Some of us feel hollowed out. Some of us feel lonely. Some of us feel the weight of having a double-digit bank account or mounting credit card bills. Some of us watch cheesy holiday movies and feel that we’re not enough, that we don’t measure up. Some of those people are me. Some might be you.

When I was younger, I believed a family was easy to define: A mother, a father, the children, a pet or two. I spent most of my life building that kind of family—the kind that had been modeled to me, the kind that I read about in my beloved books.

In this forced season of unemployment (300+ applications and not one interview. Seriously.), I have finally learned to slow down a bit. I spend long days writing my memoir and working on my next book. It is a luxury I’ve never had.

Dear Diary, As most of you know, I lost my beloved mom two years ago. A year after that, I lost my