How going to Italy alone for the holidays rekindled my love for the season.

I lost my holiday traditions early in life and never quite made up the difference. Now, as I'm nearing 50, I'm rediscovering what it means to celebrate - by traveling the world on my own.

Christmas is a maze of emotions mapped by my past. Solo travel is about the new and the now.

I'm a runner. Well, not the kind of runner that concerns herself with half-marathons. (Tho, maybe I should do something about that.) I'm the kind of runner that has a hair-trigger get-out-of-Dodge reflex. I haven't always had the luxury of being able to up and leave whenever I needed some extra space in my life. That's because until two years ago, I had attachments. And now I don't.

I live in a new-to-me country. I've no close family, no kids, no partner, and few friends. Being this un-tethered has taken some getting used to. It's also a bit of a double-edged sword. Yes, I can do whatever I like. But I can also do whatever I like. And that stark, singularly-sourced responsibility for each and every moment of my day sometimes felt like emptiness. That was before I discovered the power of solo travel.

Last year, on a bit of a whim, I took myself on vacation to Florence, Italy for Christmas. With the winter holiday schedule at work I was able to score 11 glorious days of basking in Renaissance art, sampling spectacular food, and sipping life-changing wine. I have always wanted to go to Florence, but my choice to go last Christmas wasn't only because of the favorable scheduling. I wasn't just traveling to Florence.

I was also distracting myself from the idea that I was spending the holidays alone. I was running from. Again.

I think that my runner's instinct was particularly strong last year because it was the first holiday I would spend alone by choice, not by circumstance. My last marriage ended six years ago (Quelle catastrophe!), but I had a couple of medium-term relationships after that and spent subsequent holidays with other men in a state of ambivalence. Meh-y Christmas, indeed.

Also, I have a complex family history when it comes to Christmas. My grandparents joined the Jehovah's Witnesses (JWs) when I was about 10 years old. For those of you who don't know, the JWs are an extreme faith that promises an everlasting life on a paradise earth. All you have to do is to believe what they tell you and give up all of your family traditions and celebrations -- especially Christmas.

I remember watching my grandmother throw away delicate, hand-painted ornaments. I'll never forget the sound of them shattering as they met their end at the bottom of a metal trashcan.

So, from the age of 10, the holidays became a special kind of awkward for my family. We found ourselves dialing back our celebrations each year as a way of avoiding the intense proselytizing that rained down whenever my grandparents would visit. It became even more complex when my mom joined the JWs after receiving her end-stage cancer diagnosis. My last Christmas with my mother was spent ignoring the fact that it was Christmas.

Until recently, the holiday season has always meant loss and division and doubt. I could never fully enjoy it as a child. And the hopes I had pinned on finding an adult partner who would magically make the holidays special? They were all for naught, no matter how nice we were to each other.

Some folks have told me that my running reflex is a character flaw. That by putting space between me and something painful, I'm being a coward. But what if I feel stuck or unsure about my decision to remain single by choice? And what if I didn't have just one of these issues, but both -- and they were all about to crescendo around Christmas, a very difficult time for me? What if running Is an act of self-care and an act of avoidance -- and that's a good thing?

Running from spending the holidays alone helped me bust through a pesky period of late-40s inertia and gave me confidence I forgot I had. It also validated my decision to stay single. Traveling solo is probably one boldest expressions of singledom. (Turns out this is big plus for last minute travel - more later.) I was in complete control of what to do, when to do it, where to eat, and when to rest. For the first 24 hours, I felt a little awkward. But that quickly faded after an excellent group food tour experience (more later.) By the end of my trip, I would inwardly chuckle whenever people would look past my shoulder for the partner they expected to see. It was as if they couldn't possibly understand how I could be this relaxed, confident, and happy while traveling alone during the holidays. Oh, how little they knew!

Turns out, I had The. Best. Christmas. Ever. for the first time in my life! I had it with complete strangers, in a foreign land (blog post about this later). It did not involve turkey, sleigh bells, or any of the usual trappings -- and I did not miss any of it. I made new friends and memories that are as much a part of my daily life as my actual daily life. It was the best gift I could have given myself because it opened up the world to me. Literally. And I no longer have the same dread as I once had about spending the holidays alone.

That's because I now understand that there is an entire world of people to meet and meaningful connections to build -- connections that don't involve reliving my past, or looking for someone who will become the reason I finally start living (and the excuse for why I didn't start sooner.) I no longer feel alone in the world because I explored the world alone. Isn't that the best reason to celebrate any season?

That's why I started this blog. I will be sharing my solo traveling experiences -- but not just as lists of things to pack and restaurants to try. I also seek to inspire other life-tested, less-tethered women to challenge the idea that traveling alone is dangerous, lonely, and expensive. (Spoiler: it is none of these things.) Just trust your gut - and your reflexes.

-K.