During the floating abyss that is the handful of days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve emerge the inevitable questions of, “So, how was your Chrissy?”

This year, the answers I have heard have included exhausting, busy, and adjectival expletives not fit for this medium.

For some, the day was just another added stress, on what has been a busy month and year. It was meeting an obligation that caused more pain than joy.

One even reported that she broke down in tears during the last-minute gift shopping mission, frustrated at the prospect of being essentially forced to meet a present quota.

A lot of people worked – including yours truly.

Some were confronted with breaking bread with people, relatives and otherwise, that they would rather spit on than shake hands with.

Some spent the day alone, separated from family.

But the saddest conversations were with people who see Christmas not as a time to celebrate, but a time when the starkness of loss is at its strongest.

For as many people who were present at lunch tables on December 25, there were many more who were not, and never will be again.

Whether a recent loss or one from moons ago, they are no less painful.

That is not to say that people who have suffered a loss of a loved one cannot enjoy Christmas. 

But when you cast your mind back to the bombardment of festive advertising we were subjected to in the lead-up - grief, loss or stress was never a part of the menu.

Television advertisements, shopping catalogues, even Christmas movies – they all pushed the same agenda of the “perfect” Christmas: You must have a family spanning at least three generations. Everyone should receive a thoughtful present. You must all eat at the same table at the same time. There must be cherries. Prawns. Ham. A vegan option. A dairy-free option. And you must be smiling constantly.

The concept utilised and projected onto society as “the perfect Christmas” is alienating.

For those who find the day hard, through loss or family issues, its promotion is suffocating. There is no escape from it and the memories it can trigger.

Aside from that, for many people, it’s just too much unwanted pressure to top off a year. 

There’s the politics of gift buying. Of not offending anyone by turning down a lunch invitation.

It’s meant to be an occasion to spend quality time with loved ones, to take a moment to appreciate.

But there’s scant little time in between creating the perfect table decorations.

We have become so caught up in the expectations placed on Christmas, that we forget to enjoy it. So what’s the solution? 

My proposal: in 2018, we celebrate a nonChristmas. Those who want the big family lunch with all the condiments and trimmings can still have it.

But there should be not a shred of guilt placed on those who don’t want to attend.

The supermarket duopoly can offer up something different in their ads.

For once, everyone can have a perfect Christmas, spent doing exactly what they want.