Millions this holiday season will sit at home wishing they had some party to attend. They will think their lives lack meaning and adventure, as they scroll through their social feeds that reveal people they know living their best lives. This is a perfect prescription for depression and substance abuse.

There is something you can do about it. Throw a party yourself. Invite everyone you know. Pack them all in. Even if they sit on the floor. It really doesn't matter. What matters is the human connection you have enabled and the lives you will make better, including your own.

It just takes a bit of bravery.

To be sure, it is more expensive to entertain now than it ever has been. That said, there are cheaper options out there, including making all the food yourself. This is where people get confused and attempt too much. The best way is the familiar, even if it is cheese, crackers, and store-bought pizzas or burgers. In this case, it really is the effort that counts.

Another major preventive here is the fear of being judged: the decor, the food, the not-entirely-clean house, and so on. This is entirely understandable. Opening up your home is an act of vulnerability. You are inviting people into your private space at a time when we are all concerned about our privacy. We also live in a culture of distrust of everything and everyone. That encourages a tendency toward not letting anyone into our lives.

But there is another side to this. It is precisely because inviting people in is so rare that it is so enormously valued. Just the invitation alone is enough to send a signal: you are valued, trusted, and part of what I consider my community of friendship. That's a beautiful thing. What happens after that concerning food and drink is really not nearly as important as it seems.

That said, there are ways to gussy this up. If you have 4–8 people over, the sitdown dinner is the highest and best option, daring to attempt simply because most people never have. Under the ideal conditions, you have your best china, crystal, and silverware. You have the candles, flowers, and cotton/linen napkins, with a tablecloth on a gorgeous table.

If you do not have all that—nothing wrong with the aspiration—there are other methods.

Then there is the ever-useful excuse: I have no time. It's nearly always incorrect. We are surrounded by technologies designed to save us time and yet we claim to have less time than ever. The claim to have no time is what it was when we were 10—an excuse not to do what we should do.