#noteveryoneloveschristmas

Every year, as December rolls in, the world seems to switch into celebration mode. Lights go up, shops get louder, and everyone appears to be rushing around with plans, parties, and presents. On the surface, it looks like the happiest time of the year. But the truth — the bit people don’t say out loud — is that for many, Christmas isn’t joyful at all. And lately, I’ve found myself thinking more about those people.

For some, Christmas brings back memories that hurt more than they heal. It’s impossible to ignore the spaces left behind by the people who aren’t here anymore. Whether it’s a parent, a partner, a friend, or someone who made the season feel complete, their absence becomes louder in December. You feel it in the quiet moments, in the traditions that don’t feel the same, and in the little things you wish you could still share. Christmas has a way of shining a light on what’s missing, and that can make the season feel heavier than anyone realises.

Then there’s the loneliness that creeps in — even for people who are usually fine the rest of the year. When you see neighbours welcoming visitors, families piling out of cars with bags of gifts, and windows glowing with warmth, it can make your own home feel that much quieter. Sitting alone while everyone around you seems surrounded by love and company can leave you feeling like you’re watching Christmas through a window, rather than being part of it.

And the pressure… that’s a whole experience on its own. Christmas comes with expectations — especially for parents. The adverts showing perfect families in matching pyjamas, kids opening mountains of presents, and tables full of food make it feel like anything less is a failure. But real life doesn’t work like that. Bills don’t disappear just because it’s December. Worries don’t pause. Not everyone has the means to buy the gifts they want to give or create the Christmas they imagined. For many people, the stress of trying to provide — of wanting to see their kids smile but not knowing how to afford it — is exhausting.

Yet we don’t talk about that side often enough. We don’t say how hard it can be, or how isolating it feels when the world expects you to be festive while you’re just trying to stay afloat. And sometimes, all someone needs is for their experience to be acknowledged. To hear, “It’s okay if Christmas feels different for you.” Because it is okay.

So this year, I’m trying to be more mindful. More aware of the people who are quietly struggling behind the glitter and noise. A message, a cup of tea, an invite, or even just a moment of understanding can mean more than any wrapped gift. We never truly know what someone is carrying into this season.

Christmas doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to look like the films or the adverts. Sometimes the most meaningful parts are the small moments of kindness, connection, and honesty — the little reminders that nobody has to get through December on their own.