As Christmas approaches, I sit by the window of my cottage in a small Welsh village, looking out at the cold, grey sky. The weather matches how I feel this year. I’m 45, divorced, and living with psoriatic arthritis, which makes my joints ache. I also have other health problems, so even the simplest tasks can be painful.
Waking up is tough. My body feels stiff, and making a cup of tea can take all my energy. Christmas used to be full of family and laughter, but now it’s just me. My kids go to their dad’s for the holiday, and I’m left alone. I don’t have many friends in the village anymore, and the loneliness can be overwhelming.
This year, my daughter, Emma, has been helping more. She’s cooking Christmas dinner, which is such a relief. I can’t do everything I used to, like decorate the tree or bake, but I still enjoy the little things—like the warm glow of the Christmas lights and the quiet moments in my cozy home.
Christmas isn’t about doing everything perfectly. It’s about finding joy in the small things, even when you’re by yourself. It might not be the same as it used to be, but it’s still Christmas, and that’s enough for me.
Submitted on 18 December 2024, by a 45 year old female living in England