Navigating Christmas: A Season of Light, Shadow, and Survival

December, for me, has always been a season of contradictions, a mix of magic, memory, and grief. This Christmas I reclaimed with boundaries, and a little sparkle. Finding Susan

The Other Side of Christmas

The arrival of December fills me with mixed emotions, because I’ve always had a love‑hate relationship with the month. Firstly, it’s winter a bleak time of year when the world looks desolate, draped in a ghostly grey veil that makes everything feel suffocating and claustrophobic. Too many days like that and my demons start to stir, pulling me back into the darkness. It’s a season I have to navigate carefully just to get through, my mental health suffers, depression deepens, and my body remembers the trauma.

Then comes the festive season, with ‘Merry Christmas’ tacked onto every human interaction but not everyone feels merry at this time of year. As an adoptee, it’s triggering. I’m filled with dread and anxiety, and it can feel like the loneliest time of the year.

Back in the day, the holiday period used to be long, and everything shut down, which meant my foster father would be home every day for over a week. With my foster mother busy, I was in trouble as he had more time for me. The year of my adoption was when everything about Christmas changed, social services were not around because I was no longer a foster kid.

I wasn’t a fan of Santa having already figured out quite young that he didn’t bring gifts; it was just another lie, and my wishes went unanswered. I remember the lorry that visited our street on Christmas Eve, decorated like Santa’s sleigh, lit up and blaring carols. I was always made to go out, only to be whisked away by someone dressed as an elf to see Santa. It rarely ended well; strangers, especially men, were to be avoided, so being forced onto the knee of a dressed up man always ended in tears. I also learned that gifts came with strings attached; my foster father would remind me I’d been his “good little girl” that year. That’s probably why I don’t like receiving presents.

The Magic My Nan Gave Me

Deep down, there is still that child who once believed in the magic of Christmas which was my Nana. She embodied Christmas, and with her, I always felt safe. I remember making paperchains, decorating the tree to Frank Sinatra, and helping her bake the Christmas cake and pudding, always getting to put in the sixpence. On Christmas Eve together we would, prepare the turkey, decorate the cake, bake mince pies and gingerbread men. In the evening, she’d turn on the tree and lantern-style fairy lights that hung ubove the fireplace. Then we’d settle down for our beloved black-and-white films: ‘A Christmas Carol’, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’, and ‘Miracle on 34th Street’. I still love those movies today.

It’s also a time of loss as my nan passed away just before Christmas, and grief became another emotion tied to the season. I was Fourteen and drugs replaced the love and sense of safety she had given me, and I didn’t celebrate Christmas again until I became a mum. I wanted my children to experience Christmas magic and create their own memories, like the ones my nan gave me. It was bittersweet and sometimes emotionally draining, but I have so many happy memories of their little faces, and now I see that same magic in their children. I love Christmas trees, mine goes up by the end of November, bringing sparkle and colour to winter’s grey and its for my inner child and grandchildren. Their excitement when they see my seven-foot tree with gifts underneath makes me smile. Its in those moments, I see the magic my nan created for me.

Reclaiming Christmas For Me

For many, the festive season is triggering, full of expectations, commercialism, pressure, and stress. That’s why boundaries and self-preservation matter. Being open and honest with loved ones prevents upset and ensures you have their support. So this year, I decided to spend Christmas Day alone, giving myself a self-care day, something I’ve longed to do for many years.

On Christmas Eve, I watched my grandbabies open their presents, their excitement as gifts were handed out, and the happy chatter between cousins – three generations enjoying the magic of Christmas. Seeing their delight at the lit-up tree was wonderful. My three-year-old granddaughter wishing me Merry Christmas as she arrived and left was so sweet. In the past, I wished for the festive season to pass so I could breathe again. This year, I remembered the happy Christmases spent with my nan and gave thanks for my family.

The night brought a twinkling star and moon lit sky, and I did a white sage blessing and cleansing; I laid the trauma ghosts of Christmas past to rest. Letting go of the pain and loss brought a calmness and weight lifted.

I was excited to spend Christmas Day alone, focusing solely on myself. I got up early, enjoyed my coffee, and listened to birdsong, which was crystal clear with no traffic. I watched a beautiful sunrise on a crisp, sunny winter morning. By 10am, with Frank Sinatra Christmas songs playing, everything was ready for dinner: roast beef and plum crumble with cream, one of my nan’s and my favourite meals. My home smelled just like hers did when she cooked. I felt her presence and knew the food would be delicious, and it was.

I spent the afternoon watching my favourite Christmas movies with a glass of wine. Boxing day i got creative, preparing my next art project and writing this. I enjoyed walks in nature, hand-feeding squirrels and tossing nuts for magpies, jackdaws, and crows.

This year i have had no stress, not had to deal with the hustle and bustle of shopping, no preparing food for everyone which has before felt as if id spent the day in the kitchen.

Christmas brought me gifts of healing, peace and joy. I felt lighter and found myself smiling throughout the day. I read Dickens ‘A Christmas Carol’, as I do every year, and it carried new meaning. In a way, I was like Scrooge—because for the first time in many years, I felt truly happy at Christmas.

Author’s Note
Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I share these parts of myself not for pity, but in the hope that someone who struggles through this season might feel a little less alone. Christmas can hold both light and shadow, and it’s okay if your experience doesn’t match the world’s expectations. We all navigate it in our own way. If anything in my story resonates with you, I hope it brings a moment of understanding, gentleness, or simply the reminder that your feelings are valid.