Dropping the Christmas Bombshell

Extract from Resolve, Chapter 4 ‘The Lioness Appears’ pages 88-91

During the lead-up to Christmas, I made an appointment to see my family GP, rambled on at her about having been abused by my brother, about what had occurred at my Mum’s between the children lately, and whether she could put me in touch with someone to talk to.

The subsequent first visit to the therapist began with a round of rapid-fire questions directed at me. I didn’t know at that time about the importance of building rapport or finding a therapist I felt safe with or could trust, as probably the most important thing in finding someone to speak with. We didn’t click at all. Afterwards, I did realise she was trying to prioritise the order of the things she had to deal with. What I’d shared about the incident, involving two young children at my mother’s place, meant she needed to ascertain whether someone might have abused Darryl’s son. If so, the therapist would have the duty to report it to the authorities.

Right then, in that first session, I wanted to have the therapist tell me how to leave the abuse behind me. I also wanted her to help me come up with a strategy to reinforce, with Mum, my choice of setting safe and healthy boundaries. If she could help me with that in a couple of sessions, that’d be even better.

During that first foray into seeking professional help, I had a completely unrealistic timeline of how long this ‘healing’ business would take. It was going to take much longer than that, that’s for certain. The strategy gained from that short round of sessions included a recommendation that I prepare and practice saying a few scripts for upcoming difficult conversations.

Surprisingly, a script was handy and just what I needed. I was yet to tell Mum we would not be sharing Christmas for the first time that year. Christmas for our family was about to change forever. Darryl would be there, no question about that, and I had made a promise to myself and my immediate family. No question about that, either.

We can’t have change without loss, which is why so often people say they want change but nonetheless stay exactly the same. – LORI GOTTLIEB, PSYCHOTHERAPIST & AUTHOR

I recall having my scripted conversation with Mum in the middle of an aisle of Toys’R’Us. We were walking together doing our Christmas gift shopping. Thankfully, my two girls were not with us when Mum threw the switch that launched my scripted bombshell. As though she was commenting on the weather, she said, ‘I’m so looking forward to us all being together on Christmas Day. It’ll be so lovely.’ It went downhill from there.

My shoulders tensed, and I knew this was the moment. ‘Mum,’ I glanced at her and took a breath, ‘Troy and I aren’t coming to Christmas with the family. As I said before, I don’t want to have Darryl in my life, or anywhere near my girls.’ The relief! That was easy, I thought to myself. Short and sweet!

We had both stopped in the aisle, bright smiling dolls towered over us on high shelves as busy mums and excited kids bustled past, their Christmas trolleys fully laden.

‘Don’t be so silly. It’s Christmas. You don’t want to ruin Christmas Day for the children because of that.’

I was unsure whether it was a dismissal, reprimand, or a statement, but I stood my ground.

‘Mum, I’ve told you before that if Darryl will be at a family event, I’m okay not to be there. You go on without me. It’s okay.’

She stared, frustrated like I was a particularly agile fly she couldn’t swat away from the lunch table.

‘But that doesn’t have to include Christmas Day? You’re breaking up the family.’

‘Oh Mum, I’m sorry but the family is already broken.’

That reply was unscripted, but we don’t always need to write something down to know it is true. Afterwards, there was nothing but incredibly awkward silence.

I could understand her unhappiness, but I had to stand my ground then, and many times after that first conversation about many future events. In this, having a script was highly beneficial. My inner lioness and I felt our resolve unite, confidently protecting our cubs.

‘We can move Christmas to a park, so we’re not in a house.’

‘You won’t even have to talk to Darryl if you don’t want to.’

‘Just do it for me. Just do it for the kids.’

‘No, thank you,’ I replied. ‘I’m decided on this. Enjoy your day without us.’

It was challenging to maintain, especially as I couldn’t simply pretend the tradition of Christmas Day wasn’t going to be a loss to me, too. Since I’d become a mum, not that many years earlier, Christmas had been a joyful time of planning gift-giving and menus, Santa sacks, singing carols, games, playfulness, and laughter. I did not take the choice to break away from the family celebration lightly.

I found ways to persevere with making the change required — which opened new ways to make Christmas magic with everyone we still loved sharing it with. It was only Darryl that I was choosing not
to be with. We needed to be more creative in planning gatherings with my family on other days when Darryl wasn’t present. After all, there are another 364 days to make alternative arrangements in the year.

Shared with love and with compassion for those navigating this 2025 Christmas season.

I hope to see you at a Blue Borage Conversation Cafe some time in the New Year.

Alice Perle