Most people didn’t plan on getting separated or divorced.

Most of us wanted the Fairy Tale.

Most of wanted the Family.

Most of us wanted to have the privilege of being woken up early by our excited kids, to be part of their wonder, to listen to their squeals and the ripping of paper, to hug their little pyjama-clad bodies quivering with excitement. Most of us wanted to LIVE THE DAMN DREAM.

And for most days of the year, we gradually get used to our new normal and build our new, smaller families and traditions and routines. Get into our new groove.

I’m five years into mine. But every Christmas – or at least every other Christmas – I am reminded that I am not, in fact, living the dream. That I failed to make my family work. That someone else is doing it all and seeing it all and feeling it all with them – and without me. That I am excluded, that I am no longer part of their whole life, that I get half their experiences and milestones – and that those are running out faster than I’m ready for.

Of course there are people who manage to maintain enough of a relationship with their ex to share the day, or even a few hours together. But for many of us, that isn’t the case, and the choices are limited.

We get to be alone, or to insert ourselves into someone ELSE’S family Christmas as a spare part – an incomplete jigsaw piece – watching proceedings from behind frosted glass, strangely crippled.

And every year, it still hurts.

At least it does for me.

And if it hurts for you too, here’s SIX ways to get through it.

1. Remember you never had the Dream in the first place

The matching pyjamas, the harmony, good cheer and family times NEVER EXISTED. If they did, you wouldn’t have got divorced.

Instead, you probably had simmering arguments about expenditure, pre-toy-assembly antagony, wrapping wars, tiredness competitions, hissed reminders to get out from behind phones and cameras, cooking clashes – and a million seething resentments poorly disguised by baubles and sparkly lights.

Thank the Deity of your choice that toxic vacuum of fun is no longer stifling you, your poor kids, or even your ex. Congratulate yourself on getting everyone out of that seething mass of shattered expectations and latent hostility.

2. Remember their Dream probably isn’t real either

My incredibly strong advice to you it to SWITCH OFF FROM PERSONAL SOCIAL MEDIA (not just at Christmas, but in general, but that’s probably another blog), because you really don’t need to see everyone you know (most especially your ex and their shiny new partner) showing their perfect family Instagram pictures. Not least because THEY’RE NOT TRUE EITHER.

That gloriously coiffed couple and their cherubic children and coordinated tree have been shouting at each other, ignoring the kids to get this shot, plus had a humdinger row over basting etiquette, mother-in-law management and breaking into Alcatraz-packaging – I absolutely guarantee it.

Don’t look, don’t compare, and don’t bloody believe it.

3. Do stuff for you

I know you could cheerfully tinsel-garrot the people who tell you you’re so lucky to be able to lie in, and they’d kill for a day to themselves, and how wonderful it would be to stay in bed with a book and a cup of tea.

I mean, those people deserve everything they get, frankly, are probably the ones with the icky-sweet perfect Instagram accounts anyway – and there is no jury on earth that would convict you for their murder, given this sort of monstrous provocation.

But.

They might also be right.

Those BASTERDS.

Stay in bed. Eat mince pies and drink Irish coffee under your duvet. Take a walk in the crisp air – possibly with a friend and a friendly Snowball in a flask. Watch all the Die Hards in a row. Have a bath with a really good book and a really really good soundtrack your kids refuse to listen to, probably with Alanis Morisette and/or lots of swearing, with Christmas candles and a generous glass of port. Nap. Have sex (or a wank) under the Christmas tree. Eat Christmas pudding and custard for your dinner. Set yourself a challenge as to how many Xmas dinners you can get yourself invited to, and how many you can eat before actually going pop. Pretend you’re a carefree Art Student living in a Parisian Loft. Or a hermit living in a tranquil cave. Do all the stuff those chumps with their children CAN ONLY EVER DREAM OF. Laugh at them.

4. Do stuff for others

Christ it’s another cliché. But they exist for a reason.

Bake for someone. Make Christmas dinner for other co-parenting drifters like you. Volunteer somewhere. Do a work shift so someone else gets the time off. Try and get up and out of your own head and your own problems and focussing on other people.

Allow yourself to feel good about doing a small bit of good in a dark world.

5. Do a do-over

This year I’m going back home to do Christmas the old-fashioned way – just me, my sister, my Mum and Dad. Before spouses and kids and divorces and distance there was the four of us; and we had FUN. These parent-type things are not going to last forever, you know. We’re getting old – and they’re getting even older. And doing over Christmas Past feels like an amazing time-travel opportunity. That doesn’t happen often. Invent it.

6. Throw yourself into planning your own Christmas

Christmas is, really, just a damn day. I know you’re still going to feel it ON the day. But there are other days… So throw yourself into throwing your own completely AMAZING one when the kids come back.

Here, we ask Father Christmas in our letters to him to deliver our presents on a different day. So we do our own Christmas ‘Eve’ sleepover downstairs, and wake up to our very own Christmas Day all over again, complete with delivery, footprints, et al.

And it’s great. It’s still special. It’s still magic. They’re still excited and wriggly and shrieky and happy to be home. It’s still Christmas… It just looks a little bit different.

And maybe, after the time apart, it even looks a little bit better.

Hold on to that, if you can.

xxx