What happens when we can’t find the joy. Or nothing feels merry and bright. What happens if we’re grieving a family member, and this is the first Christmas without them. What if we’re feeling the financial burden of a holiday under capitalism, and can’t afford mountains of presents or food for our children or families, even though we give everything to make sure they don’t miss out. What if we’re deep in the darkness of mental health issues and can’t see a way out. What if we’re struggling with eating disorders around a holiday based so much around food and communal meals. What if we’re stuck on the other side of the country, or the world, because of the pandemic. And we won’t be able to see our families for the second year in a row. What if our families is not a safe place for us to be. But the pressure of Christmas Day means we have to be there with them, at the detriment of ourselves. What if this time of year brings up memories of trauma relating to families, or Christmas, or anything. What if nothing seems merry or bright. What if the dark seems all consuming – or never ending.