The Christmas That Taught Me About Love, Pain, and Letting Go

For me, Christmas it has often been a season of challenge — a time of deep reflection, learning, and growth. Over the years, I’ve discovered that the real magic of Christmas isn’t found in gifts or perfection, but in connection, presence, and love.

Childhood Memories: The Magic in Small Moments

As a child, I loved Christmas — not for the gifts, which were few, but for the quiet, tender moments. Sitting on my grandmother’s lap listening to the King’s College Choir, putting up our 1970s plastic tree with its worn decorations — imperfect, yet full of love. Those small moments created a deep sense of safety and connection.

The Loss That Changed Everything

Adolescence brought loss. My mother died when I was 14, and my beloved grandmother a few years later. The years that followed saw our family become a blended with new relatives, new traditions and new challenges. Priorities shifted from quality to quantity. Things felt rushed, uncared for. Poorly wrapped gifts, gifts without thought, food prepared without care, and things felt less precious. I felt less precious. Christmases felt unfamiliar, tinged with inequality, and shadowed by a longing for the simple magic I remembered from childhood. This was when I vowed that my future Christmases would be different to these.

Motherhood and the Pressure of Perfection

When I became a mother, I wanted to recreate the same magic for my children as my mother and grandmother created for me . But it wasn’t easy. The pull of consumerism and the pressure to do more — spend more, craft more, create “the perfect Christmas” — weighed heavily. I equated busyness with love and effort, not realising how much I was sacrificing my own presence in the process.

The Darkest Christmas: 2011

In 2010, I experienced a serious health condition and by Christmas 2011, I was in acute depression. On Christmas Eve, I could barely lift myself from the sofa. I felt like I was failing everyone, unable to cook, clean, or perform the rituals I thought were necessary for a “magical” holiday. Reality felt unbearable.

Yet, surrounded by six people in our tiny London flat (my in-laws and a friend staying with us for months) something miraculous happened. They rallied around me. They cared for me. They held space for me. I couldn’t eat the Christmas feast, but I laughed for the first time in weeks. We spent days watching old films, eating cheese sandwiches, and simply being together. Slowly, I came back to myself.

The Lessons Christmas Has Taught Me

Each year, the temptation to buy more, do more, and overcomplicate the holidays resurfaces. But now, I pause. I set intentions:

• What kind of Christmas do I want to experience?

• How can I focus on presence rather than perfection?

• How can I care for myself at this time?

Christmas has taught me that its true richness is not in luxury or excess, but in connection, love, and mindful presence, even in the darkest times.

Each year, I choose to remember the lessons of the past. I choose presence over perfection, love over obligation, and moments over material things. Because in the end, that’s what Christmas has always been about.