Pittsburghers share experiences of joy and isolation on Thanksgivings alone

“I’m new to the city, and I don’t have a permanent home yet. Since I don’t have family here and I’m only beginning to meet people, I’ll be spending the holiday alone, and hopefully, I’ll be renting an apartment and not [be] homeless during the holiday season.”

“When I lived away from my family, I opened my doors every Thanksgiving to all those who needed a place to go both [for] Thanksgiving and Easter — those two holidays where it’s harder to travel home just to see family. I loved it. I had health issues, moved back home and then divorced. I realized how much less enjoyable it was. … So now [that I’m] disabled and living with family for now (maybe forever with the housing market), I enjoy a peaceful alone holiday when they go elsewhere. This year it should be that way. I will get a Mad Mex Gobblerito that week and maybe make a few fav sides and be grateful for a peaceful time to spend listing gratitudes and reminding myself of all that I have to be thankful for. I won’t be stuffing myself, trying to eat multiple meals in one day or over the course of two days, and I won’t have anyone grinching down my holiday spirit.”

“It’s not some cute, quirky thing, that you have nowhere to go on Thanksgiving. I’ve never had a Thanksgiving. I’m a foster kid who got adopted by terrible people and now as an adult I have very, very, very few relationships with anyone. I don’t just hate the holidays. They are literal torture. I’m on the outside looking in the windows watching people laugh with a table full of food and watching them be together and warm and happy and yes, I do understand that families are complicated and it probably isn’t always a happy experience but at least they have someone. At least they aren’t sitting in their apartment alone trying to find a movie on Netflix that isn’t holiday themed. At least they have someone that would notice if they didn’t show up for dinner. At least they aren’t trying to find a drive-thru that’s open because they forgot to buy food again. At least they don’t have to feel this gaping chasm inside of them that is full of the darkest pain that screams how worthless you are without end. I would give anything, anything to have a family, to have a real holiday, to have a Christmas tree and a turkey and ‘remember that Thanksgiving when’ and just to not be so terribly alone.”

“I won’t be alone this year, but the year I spent the holiday alone was one of my favorite memories. Made a pan of lasagna. Went for a bike ride. Sat in the town square and read a book; it was sunny. Told folks who invited me over that I already had plans, which was true. I felt very peaceful and wished I could do more alone holidays.”

“When you’re a nightclub DJ, and the club doesn’t close until 4:00 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning, you’re kind of already taken out of the group that celebrates. Also, my mom and brother live in another state so there isn’t really an option of seeing them. There are no paid vacation days for people who do the job I do, and the night before Thanksgiving is an important one in my industry, therefore taking the day off is just not a realistic idea. On Thanksgiving Day, I will wake up at 2 p.m. and go about my normal routine of exercising and showering and such. At some point I will watch football and probably eat leftovers. Of course I wish the situation were different but these are the things I do to survive.”

“In pre-pandemic days — and when both my husband and I were younger, more active members of our respective offices — we would invite everyone in our offices to our home for Thanksgiving. Because we had a lot of international colleagues, this thoroughly American holiday, full of family and football traditions, was lost on them. Because turkey is native to the Americas, I would serve both it and a ham. There would be much merriment and fun — just try explaining the finer points of football to a roomful of soccer players! But those days are in the past as we now telecommute. We no longer have the close connections, and with the ‘kids’ having flown the coop, we find ourselves just looking at each other thinking, ‘How DID we fit 35 people around the table?’ And, ‘I am a bit relieved we do not need to this year!’”