My ex-husband showed up drunk at his Christmas with our kids. It really, really sucked. I have three kids; one cried and yelled, one would not acknowledge him, and one disappeared until things calmed down. Something in me broke. I have spent years protecting both him and our kids, in order to keep his healing journey safe, and so as not to embarrass or expose my kids. While I believe I did the right thing for the kids' sake, I also ignored that I am part of this life experience too, and it is part of my story. Does it need to be public? No, it doesn't, but in my life purpose of helping others, my experiences can bring meaning, help and hope to others. This is part of my story and I should be able to share it as such.

Pain comes in many forms. Watching my kids that night propelled my pain to a whole new level. There was nothing I could do to make any part of it okay, because it simply wasn't. We were able to salvage some of the evening, but when I went to bed that night, I was shattered. Do I understand why his drinking has escalated over the past year? I sure do. Does that mean I turn a blind eye to its effect on others? A resounding NO.

Some lessons from that sh** show night:

1. I realized a couple of ways I've been enabling bad behaviour.

2. My kids (all teenagers) still need me to be their safe place, and to provide a safe place. While I fully recognize I have done a great job, for the most part, this showing up drunk thing is fairly new water to navigate.

3. It reminded me that I'm not always strong, and that's okay. I have a reputation for being kind, compassionate and resilient, but there are just some crappy moments that I'm allowed to be upset about. If I don't handle it perfectly, I will still survive. One of my greatest fears is falling apart and not being able to support my kids' emotions through the traumas they've been repeatedly exposed to.

4. I am not alone. I know that, but I sure felt alone that night. It's the holidays, who wants to ruin someone else's Christmas?! When I woke up the next morning, I reached out to a friend. I vented, she listened, we talked, and I hung up feeling like I could carry on.

5. I can change how I do things, I can still be kind and compassionate while drawing strong lines and boundaries for my own mental health, so my job as the mom isn't derailed. After all, if I'm not okay and don't take care of myself, I am not teaching my kids how to navigate the deep, dark waters of life either.

Simply put, what I allow is what will continue.

My wish for you and for me is that we will take time during what can be a difficult season to reflect on who we are, how far we've come, and how the challenges we face give us the opportunity to become bitter or better.