Recently, while watching live music at a local nightclub with a long-time family friend, I was reminded of something powerful: the very first Christmas I spent in my new home and life in Spain.

It was Christmas Eve — a time when friends and family were relaxing, preparing, and enjoying themselves behind closed doors. But for me, Christmas and my birthday had always been completely different. They were never calm, joyful occasions.

That Christmas Eve, the arguments started at lunchtime. The predictable pattern unfolded: shouting, bad-mouthing, insults, threats. Every year, the same chaos. But that day, something inside me shifted.

I stayed calm. I removed myself from the toxicity. I went into my bedroom, put on my Christmas clothes, and applied some makeup to cover my red, swollen eyes. I gathered my essentials — my passport, car keys, and important documents — things that, in past situations, had been taken from me without warning.

And then I walked out. Alone. Down to the nightclub. I told myself, firmly, that this would be the very last Christmas and birthday I would ever spend abused and upset.

When I arrived, I sat down and looked around at happy, smiling faces: couples together, friends laughing, people dancing, and looking forward to Christmas — experiences I hadn’t had in decades. I ordered a drink, spotting my grandson sitting at a table with friends he knew. He looked at me, and I didn’t need to say a word. He understood immediately — this was a familiar story.

After a few drinks and dancing with some of his friends, Christmas started to feel bearable again. The music, the laughter, the shared joy — it reminded me of what these holidays should feel like.

At midnight, I was dropped off at home. I entered alone, went to bed in silence, and woke the next morning, determined not to let anything ruin my birthday. At 7:00 a.m., I put on my wetsuit and headed to the beach for a swim and to meet my friend. My ex came along, pretending everything was normal — just like he had done countless times before. But this time, it didn’t matter. It was the end of that chapter.

Last Christmas was tough, but with the support of my family, I laughed, I loved, and I celebrated my birthday and Christmas in style — with no abuse. I remembered what these occasions should feel like.

This year will be even better. No more abuse. No more toxicity. No more insults. No more shouting. Just pure love, joy, and connection — no hidden agendas, no fear, just the celebration of life and the people I care about.