Three Christmases: From Nothing to Everything That Matters
December 27, 2025
When Others’ Journeys Aren’t Ours to Judge
Content note: This post discusses domestic abuse, coercive control, child trauma, financial abuse, and Christmas‑related triggers.
A Facebook Post That Hit Hard
Recently, I saw someone post on Facebook about how hard they’d worked to get their kids’ Christmas presents. They were proud, as they should be. But the comments were brutal. People judged them, mocked them, accused them of showing off.
Nobody knew their circumstances. Nobody understood that their version of “going over and above” might look completely different from someone else’s.
It’s hard being a single parent. But do you know what’s harder?
Being judged by someone who has no understanding of the path you’ve had to walk.
We All Walk Different Paths
I’m a single parent to three children. I work full‑time as a Specialist Nurse Practitioner. I receive no child maintenance from my youngest’s dad in months, after a 6 month period of late payments. My kids have been through absolute hell, but not one day do I wish to go back.
Does that make me better than someone who still struggles with their past?
No.
Does it make me stronger than someone who misses what they left behind?
Absolutely not.
Some parents feel they’ve failed. Some don’t.
Some spoil their kids. Some can’t.
Some are surviving day by day, doing the very best they can with what they have.
Every single one of those experiences is valid.
None of us has the right to judge another parent’s choices, spending, or what they give, or don’t give, their children.
December 2023: Fleeing With Three Kids and Nothing but Debt
We returned to this house on 2nd December after the council’s homeless team placed us in a refuge. I was financially crippled by someone who contributed nothing yet insisted he’d given everything. Looking back at what I spent over those 4½ years, I could have paid off a quarter of my mortgage. My spending didn’t change for the kids, it changed for him.
Two years ago, in December 2023, I fled with my three children. The abuse was no longer just directed at me, it had begun affecting them too. I’d spent months trying to leave, but finances were weaponised against me.
Domestic abuse and coercive control bled me dry. I’d never had debt before. When I came home, I was paying rent at the refuge, the mortgage here, and every other bill, whilst he contributed nothing.
We separated in 2022. I set up the Child Maintenance Service, but only two payments were ever made. Each time, I was accused of “leaving him desolate” and “taking everything,” so I sent them back.
There were endless lies, about his finances, his past, his supposed hardships. I believed them. I even paid off thousands of pounds of his debt because we were applying for a mortgage and he claimed it wasn’t his fault.
By the end of 2023, I was selling my children’s toys and everything I owned just to cover his debts in preperation to leave, as he refused to leave the home.
Our First Christmas in Crisis
Financial abuse continued after I left and had persisted throughout 2023 and spirraled into 2024..
Christmas 2023 was the hardest of my life.
I was so unwell, vomiting constantly, exhausted, traumatised. I’d been in court twice for non‑molestation orders before Christmas. I was barely functioning.
But it was Christmas Day when I realised how little fight I had left.
My eldest, 13 and autistic, said:
“It’s fine now because the police know, so they know he can’t do anything.”
He believed abusive behaviour would lead to consequences. He had no idea how limited the police response could be — and neither did I.
My middle son said:
“If you ever go back to him, I’ll go and live with my dad.”
I told him:
“If I ever take him back, I want you to promise me you WILL go and live with your dad.”
By then, something catastrophic would have had to happen to force me back into a room with that man, let alone a house.
The Reality of That Day
Christmas Day was hell.
My kids had nothing close to what I believed they deserved. But what I hoped for, desperately was safety.
They were still sleeping with baseball bats and hammers under their beds in case their stepdad came back.
I collapsed that day. I physically couldn’t keep my eyes open. I hadn’t slept in days. In the photos, my 13‑year‑old refused to take his coat off. He looked pale, distressed, traumatised but didn’t complain once.
A few weeks later, my 11‑year‑old met me at the bottom of the stairs with a knife. He’s now under CAMHS. His first words were:
“I thought you were him.”
He was petrified.
The year went on. More happened. Life was horrible.
December 2024: Still Hard, But Healing
Then came the next Christmas. Still hard. Still trauma. But financially, things were a little better.
Why?
Because when you remove someone who bleeds you dry financially, who punishes you with silent treatment, alcohol, drugs, affairs, guilt trips; you suddenly don’t spend half as much.
The financial situation began to improve. My kids had what they wanted, not everything, but what we could afford; because the financial abuse had stopped.
Of course, the lies continued. He used the court system again. Told them about his “important job” and how he was going to pay child maintenance. A few months of payments. Then nothing.
I never wanted a penny from him anyway. But some parents do, and they need it, especially at Christmas.
December 2025: A Different Kind of Christmas
This Christmas was different.
I know the court will come again; one of his recent orders even states he has already submitted another application.
It is likely yet another fictitious claim, accusing me of things that are untrue and attempting to weaponise the court system after being caught out by his own contradictions. It has been a long journey, but I’m ready now.
This week, I’ll put all my files in the attic. Everything I worked on before I even involved the police. Every message from the last 4½ years. All the hell I went through for two years, documented, evidenced, chronological.
Now it’s going in the attic.
Because this is a new year.
The court will come again. But I’m not the person I was two years ago. And this Christmas, neither were my kids.
From September onwards, they finally had some respite. People told me for years, “Don’t worry, he’ll mess up again.” But when you’re living in it, you never believe it.
I’ve Changed — And That’s the Difference
People ask, “Will he change?”
That’s not what matters.
He messed up again. He blamed me again.
He hasn’t changed. He never will.
But I have changed. And that is the difference.
Two Years Later: The Same Story, Different Chapters
Two years ago, I was homeless in a refuge. I wrapped donated items for my kids. I couldn’t afford food. The debt he left me with was overwhelming — thousands in finance on products he took with him. I had proof, but the police didn’t care.
Two years later, I didn’t blink when I bought my son a guitar. I didn’t think twice about Foo Fighters tickets for my middle son. My youngest? The entire living room floor was covered in presents.
Does that make others uncomfortable? Maybe.
Does it make them feel they’re not doing enough? Possibly.
But they ARE doing enough.
Money means nothing.
Safety does.
I’m not sharing this to brag. I’m sharing it because I want people to know that change is possible. Circumstances can shift. What looks one way today might look completely different in two years.
Two years ago, my kids had nothing. They didn’t ask for anything. They wanted safety far more than gifts.
They didn’t care about presents.
They cared about being safe.
Why Comparison Hurts More Than It Helps
When we judge other people’s journeys, we:
- assume we know their circumstances — we don’t
- impose our values onto their reality
- create shame where there should be none
- make people feel they must justify their choices
A parent buying one small gift might be giving everything they have.
A parent buying something expensive might be celebrating their first year of financial stability.
A parent buying nothing might be giving their child something far more valuable — safety, peace, freedom.
We simply don’t know.
Someone could look at my old photos and judge me for not providing enough.
Someone could look at this year’s photos and judge me for providing too much.
Neither judgement would be fair.
Neither would be accurate.
Neither would know the full story.
Yes, We Faced Hard Times — And It Was Worth It
Please don’t stay in your house because of financial fear. Life is tough — really tough. I won’t pretend it gets easier quickly.
But this Christmas was different.
I still had my afternoon nap, but this time, it wasn’t from collapse. It was from relaxing, watching films, and feeling safe. Surrounded by three kids who are healing, who are close, who are a family again.
Yes, something more will come.
That’s the pattern. But I’m not the same person.
Please Don’t Stay Because of Money
Your kids deserve more than financial fear keeping you trapped.
This year, I’ll share photos and I’m not embarrassed that you couldn’t see the floor for the presents. Because do you know what I used to hear?
Threats about how little I’d get in child maintenance if I dared to leave.
Reminders that I’d have nothing.
That I couldn’t survive.
That the kids would suffer.
I work hard. My wage was earned through years of graft. It should always have been for my children, never a means of buying him things.
Next year won’t look like this. But this year? They finally had the Christmas they deserved.
Because we are safe, happy, healing, and together.
And now, two years later?
We really do have everything.
Because we’re safe.
The Real Message
If you’re struggling this Christmas, you’re doing enough.
If you gave your kids very little, you’re doing enough.
If you spoiled them, you’re doing enough.
If you’re somewhere in between, you’re doing enough.
If you left abuse and your kids had nothing, you gave them everything that mattered.
If you stayed because you genuinely couldn’t leave yet, you’re surviving — and that takes strength.
We don’t walk in each other’s shoes.
We don’t live each other’s nightmares.
We don’t carry each other’s trauma.
My Only Ask
Please don’t judge other parents.
Not their spending.
Not their choices.
Not their pride.
Not their survival.
You don’t know what they fled from.
You don’t know what they’re building towards.
You don’t know what their version of “enough” looks like.
That Facebook post hurt my heart. Someone was proud, and people tore them down.
They deserved celebration, not criticism.
Where I Am Now
Yes, I’m proud of how far we’ve come. Not because having more makes us better, but because we survived. Because we’re healing. Because my kids are learning that safety and love matter more than anything money can buy.
I work hard. I’m a full‑time mum like many. Some days are still incredibly difficult.
But I’m not the person I was two years ago.
My kids aren’t either.
Neither version of me was better or worse.
Neither Christmas was more or less valid.
What changed wasn’t my worth as a parent.
It was our circumstances.
Our safety.
Our healing.
If You’re Reading This and You’re Scared
If you’re in that house right now, scared to leave because you don’t know how you’ll manage financially, I’m telling you: you will manage.
It won’t be easy.
There will be days when trauma knocks you flat.
There will be moments of doubt.
There will be times when your kids eat donated food and play with second‑hand toys.
But they will be safe.
And that is everything.
Two years from now, you could be where I am.
Your kids could be healing.
You could be sleeping without hammers under the bed.
You could be buying what they need without checking your bank balance in fear.
You deserve that.
Your children deserve that.
The hardest part is the first step.
But on the other side of that fear is freedom.
The Bottom Line
No one has the right to judge another person’s journey, not their past, not their present, not their choices.
We’re all doing the best we can with what we have, where we are, with the circumstances we’re navigating.
Every journey is valid.
Every parent deserves compassion, not judgement.
Whether you gave your kids everything or nothing.
Whether you’re healing or still trapped.
Whether you’re celebrating or surviving.
You’re doing enough.
You are enough.
Don’t let anyone’s judgement, including your own, tell you otherwise.
We’re all just trying to do right by our kids in whatever way we can.
And that looks different for every single one of us.
That’s not something to judge.
That’s something to respect.
If You’re Experiencing Domestic Abuse
You are not alone. There is help. There is hope.
National Domestic Abuse Helpline: 0808 2000 247 (24/7)
Refuge: www.refuge.org.uk
Women’s Aid: www.womensaid.org.uk
Your journey, whatever it looks like, deserves compassion.
