I recently heard psychotherapist John Price describe Dickens’ A Christmas Carol as Scrooge “doing the work”, which made me laugh, and sounded like the jumping off point for a blogpost. “Doing the work” has become synonymous with going to therapy, engaging in some other therapeutic transmutation, or sometimes general self-improvement. It probably goes without saying that I believe in therapy as a form of self-discovery and, perhaps with a caveat, self-improvement. The caveat being that therapy hopefully shows us that we do not need to improve, because that implies we are not enough or not OK as we are. The more I develop as a therapist the weightier those ideas become. “You are OK as you are” means embracing suffering. The variety and depth of suffering I see as a therapist – can it all be embraced? Imagine for a moment someone, perhaps you, experiencing ‘depression’. If you’ve experienced it, you may bring to mind your own experience. If not, imagine being so overwhelmed by the world that you are forced into retreat by your mind/body. It’s somehow both no longer a choice, and also your only choice – to retreat from the world under the duvet. Normal responsibilities get thrown aside. How to embrace such an experience? To me, understanding that depression is sometimes a rebellion helps. It may be something within you saying “NO”. What would it be like to trust that there is indeed something that needs saying no to, that the world has pushed you too far. That a retreat from the world is necessary, and not a character flaw or a sign you are broken. Imagine that depression is a way of coping, that depression has your back.
Perhaps I’ve started in the spirit (pun intended I’m afraid) of Christmas present, Scrooge’s second visitor, who shows him what is actually happening. Embracing the reality of the present, that the world is sometimes overwhelming, can allow us to accept that we need to retreat – allowing depression to be a help not a hindrance. “The Spirit stood beside sick beds, and they were cheerful; on foreign lands, and they were close at home; by struggling men, and they were patient in their greater hope; by poverty, and it was rich.” In my interpretation I understand Dickens was saying that the way out of suffering is through acceptance of your circumstance, and that gratitude can be found in the darkest corners. In contract, he shows us the Spirit of Christmas Presents’ children – a girl of Want, and a boy of Ignorance. Ignorance has “Doom” written on his forehead. If I remain ignorant of the present, I am doomed to suffer.
Scrooge suffers because he has forgotten the past, the present as it really is, and the future. He is lost in his own misery, projecting it out onto others. The Ghost of Christmas Past shows him that he was lonely as a boy, and Scrooge recalls turning a carol singer away and feels a pang of guilt. He is shown another Christmas past, when his sister and friend showed him kindness. He recalls now that these acts of kindness didn’t cost anything, but were worth a fortune to him. In therapy the past is not a fixed place. As we change in the present our attitude to the past changes. What was once forgotten or overlooked now seems full of meaning. We can imagine that young Ebenezer’s parents may not have been attentive – his sister says “Father is so much kinder than he used to be”. This isn’t in the story, but we can imagine further that Scrooge resented his father for his unkindness, and perhaps carried this wound in his heart with a bitterness. If the Spirit had shown him his father’s past too, perhaps he would have seen how his father also suffered. Can we hold our suffering in one hand, and empathy for the one who caused it in the other? The past is then changed in the eyes of the present – the only place it really exists.
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come shows Scrooge the consequences of his actions – the death of Tiny Tim and the grief of the Cratchit family. And ultimately, the tragedy of his own death too, in that no-one grieves for him. While I think the story points to the importance of charity and good will to all, it also reminds us of our mortality. It reminds Scrooge not of the vagueness that everyone dies, but of the specifics that HE will die. I think it’s easier to acknowledge that all life in the end dies, in a general sense. But it’s much harder to reckon with the reality of our own death. What will people say about you when you die? What is the engraving on your tombstone? It sounds morbid, but it somehow seems appropriate to think of these things at Christmas. There’s nothing more festive and traditional than A Christmas Carol, which certainly addresses these questions. And echoing that tradition there are many Christmassy ghost stories.
Christmas is after all a time of great darkness, the longest nights and the shortest days. The warmth and light of the fire inside is contrasted by the cold and darkness of the night, always at our window. As a Christian holiday Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus, which is also wrapped up with his death. Think of the gift of myrrh, a herb used for embalming the dead, from one of the Three Kings: “Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume, breathes a life of gathering gloom, sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying, sealed in the stone-cold tomb.” The ancient festival of Yule that long predates Christmas celebrated fire, light and feasting. But it also relied on the slaughter of animals who couldn’t be fed over winter (hence the feasting), and possibly sacrifices to gods or other supernatural beings. Little wonder then that our minds may be drawn to the limits of life over the Christmas period, as well as joy and celebration. On a more individual level, we may of course be reminded of our loved ones who are no longer with us. I love that A Christmas Carol is such a traditional story in the UK, with it’s reminder to reflect on our lives and to prioritise kindness to others (particularly those in need) over the pursuit of wealth.