Spending Christmas without my son taught me how to indulge my inner child

That Christmas eight years ago was incredibly painful – but it taught me the importance of self-care

No Christmas Day goes by without me taking a moment to remember the Christmas I had to spend without my child. I’d had him the year before and it was my ex-husband’s turn. That horrible period of my life was eight years ago now, and I’ve since rebuilt myself (if columns could have a soundtrack, this one’s will be Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive”). But still, every Christmas, I have a peak at the past and that dreadful day when my four-year-old wasn’t with me. It’s fair to say I wasn’t a brave little soldier about it.

It was my first and last Christmas without him. After that, we split the day. Still not great, but nowhere near as bad. The thing is, for splitting Christmas to really work, being on friendly terms with your ex is key. That Christmas, I was still raw from our break-up. It was all I could talk about or think about. It was also possibly the worst time to have been booked on Live At The Apollo. Making jokes about your ex-husband on national television is, I can attest, not the most conciliatory move, nor does it endear you to the British public. The fact I agreed to be on that show when so out of my mind with pain still flabbergasts me. I should have been in an all-white room with billowing curtains listening to whale music. Ah, well – you live, you learn, you’re never booked back.

These days, peace reigns between my son’s father and I. We live a short walk from each other and, because we are both welcome to pop into each other’s homes during the day for a drink, the handover isn’t the clawing-at-your-heart agony it once was. Sweet, isn’t it? It only took us seven years to get here. Still, we are here now, and every Christmas I am relieved and thankful all over again.