This is my second holiday season separated from my husband of twelve years. Last year, I coasted through the dinners and gift-giving without incident. I shed very few tears and raged even less. My only goal was to make it as easy and normal as possible for my two children. I even asked my ex to come over for Christmas morning and dinner at my parents!

 Yes, last year I was a whirlwind of will power. Determined to prove to the world that I was fine and could handle it all. That his leaving would not destroy me and I could prevail. And while our separation has been a good thing on many levels, all tornadoes eventually lose their steam and energy. And I have to admit, I'm tired of pretending.

This year will be different. I've entered the angry zone. And while I know it wasn't all his fault, that I had a hand in the demise of our marriage, I admit I'm in a blaming phase right now. I'm not proud of it. I catch the thoughts in my head of 'IF your dad hadn't left, I could afford lots of presents' before it leaves my mouth and enters my children's ears. However, it often comes out in my tone of voice when he calls.

Then there is the loneliness. Last year, I put on a brave face and ignored the fact I was the only one at the celebrations without a significant other. This year, I worry I will avoid the festive events over fears of getting too depressed. I don't foresee myself crying into my eggnog over losing him, but I do miss having someone to kiss under the mistletoe.

And did I mention being tired? Single parenting is exhausting on a normal week, never mind all the decorating, baking apple pies and holiday cookies, playing football and building snowmen, shopping and wrapping. Etc. and etc. All the activities that go into creating a festive celebration that lingers in my children's mind for months to come. I know I need help, but I dread leaning on my ex for assistance.

So what can I do?

I realized when you project an image of strength and confidence- people believe it! They don't know I'm vulnerable and could use some help. No one can read my mind. So I recently confessed to my parents I'm struggling in ever way imaginable. They have been such an amazing help, I'm kicking myself for not talking to them sooner.

I plan to give myself some early Christmas gifts: attendance at the Base Camp, time with girlfriends, self-appreciation and acceptance, gratitude, early bedtimes and deep breaths. I promise to not forget myself in the hurry and bustle of the holiday, and to permit myself to say 'no.' And I will remember the joy behind the activity, that simple is usually best and to follow my heart.