We are told that it is the season to be jolly. However for many, Christmas is not the most magical time of the year. It is among the most difficult. Sometimes it brings back memories of pain at Christmas. For others it can be an exceptionally painful time as we are grieving or navigating loss.

Then there are the experiences which don’t fit into a hallmark movie of the week. Christmas can be a harsh reminder of family dysfunction, of how anger and hurt are hidden behind closed wreath clad doors.

The seeming obsession with family at Christmas is painful for those with abusive families. Others have cut off contact or must remain apart for their own safety and sanity. Then there are those whose families have rejected them. They would love the Hollywood movie ideal of sitting round the table together but are excluded from the list. It is ironic how many of those who shout loudest about “the war” on Christmas are often those who only want their children and relatives around the table if they conform to narrow ideas about identity and politics.

It can also be the season when all the old cliches come out. People asking you what they have to be depressed about, or telling you to “cheer up, its Christmas!” As if depression has a calendar and will go into remission when it notices the date. Comparisons between mental and physical health issues can be problematic. For one thing it reinforces the idea that one can only have one or the other. Even so it is telling that people in hospital for physical ailments over Christmas are seen as needing special treatment, visited by celebrities and news crews, while those struggling mentally are seen as letting the side down.

The guides that are written to surviving the Christmas season often seem to take it as read that you can join in. There is also a pressure to have unlimited income and “spoons”. (For those not familiar with spoons there is an excellent explanation here.) I remember struggling through one Christmas with a toddler, a new-born and post natal depression. 20 handy hints to the perfect Christmas party food were not going to help me cope.

This is hopefully a different type of survival guide, one that I hope might help those struggling this Christmas.

Give yourself permission

A common feeling among those who find Christmas hard is that they should feel differently. There can be a lot of a guilt that they aren’t behaving in an acceptable manner. Many neurodivergent people may experience being shamed, or blamed because the foods, change in routine and sensory inputs are overwhelming. Assuming it is safe, and you are able to do so, give yourself permission to feel how you feel about any or all parts of Christmas. If you feel low, want to avoid the parties or family activities, or need to rest, you aren’t spoiling Christmas for others. They are spoiling it for themselves by demanding your compliance with their idea of what Christmas should look like. How you feel isn’t any less valid; I’s just different.

A few years ago I met a woman in her 90s who had refused all invitations from her family for Christmas Dinner. People fussed, insisted that; “You can’t be alone on Christmas Day”. She pointed out not only could she, but that she would be. After 90 years of doing what she was supposed to on Christmas Day she finally did what she wanted to. What she wanted to do was watch old movies with a Marks and Spencer ready meal on her lap. This is how she spent every Christmas until she passed away at 101. Before she died she had given herself permission to have the Christmas she wanted.

Reach Out

It can feel like you are the only person not caught up in the whirlwind of Christmas excitement. This adds to the guilt, to those “shoulds” that fill people with anxiety and a sense of failure. The fact is you are not alone, and simply realising it can be a huge help. If you are on social media, you can find hashtags like #SurvivingXmas on Masto, Instagram and Bluesky. Sane offers their text support along with their telephone support lines.

Reaching out to those around you can be hard, and for some it simply isn’t possible, but if you can simply letting them know you are struggling can share the load. You don’t have to put on the face the world expects and it is OK to let people know how you are feeling.

Know your triggers.

Obviously triggers can come from nowhere, and I am not suggesting here that we can be aware at all times of them. However sometimes thinking about what might be flashpoints in advance can help, especially if you combine it with the previous two suggestions. If, for example, food or alcohol are issues talk to those you trust to work out coping strategies in advance.

This can be an especially hard time for those who have suffered a bereavement. Often they feel compelled to do things exactly as the loved one would have done, adding more pressure and guilt into the mix. One of the things that can help is to change what you do at Christmas, instead of an “empty chair” at the table go out to a restaurant or change venues some other way. It is not saying you didn’t love, or don’t miss the person who has passed on, it is acknowledging the pain their loss has caused and taking steps to manage it.

Know your limits

Be it alcohol or credit cards Christmas can be a time of excess, here though I mean different limits, the need for self-care, and saying I can only do so much. Perhaps you can make a visit but only if the next day is one of rest and recuperation. Perhaps you can go to the work Christmas Party if you leave early. There is no perfect Christmas, despite what the adverts tell us, no magic formula which will turn everything into a John Lewis ad. Giving yourself permission, reaching out, and knowing the danger areas might mean that you can have the Christmas you want, and need, and isn’t that a great place to start?