Clocking Off

4th Dec 2009

The Christ­mas hype can be emo­tion­ally exhaust­ing. But one film makes every­thing seem right again for Laura Hewitt

EMOTIONALLY, Christ­mas is always a time of polar opposites.

For the entirety of Decem­ber, we are up and down and wrung out. Our lives are invaded by an invis­i­ble, emo­tional pres­sure – every­one knows the kind. It is more than con­sumer pres­sure; it is peer pres­sure from a smug, ide­al­is­tic global com­mu­nity. Either way, it comes from a very pub­lic sphere, but inevitably it affects our per­sonal sphere, too.

From music, to films, to TV adverts, we can­not escape the phe­nom­e­non. We are affected by the hype – we can’t help it. This would be eas­ier to deal with if its effect wasn’t so awfully pen­e­trat­ing. But it isn’t just the lat­est nau­se­at­ing offer­ing from Ice­land or Tesco that demands so much of us. Rather, the tra­di­tions passed down over the decades that make the West­ern fes­tive sea­son have irrev­o­ca­bly per­me­ated our soci­ety and cul­ture. An image is pre­sented of con­vivial hap­pi­ness that sim­ply isn’t a real­ity for many people.

It is a well-known fact that con­fi­den­tial lis­ten­ing char­ity Samar­i­tans receive a sharp increase in calls at this time of the year – and no won­der. Feel­ings of lone­li­ness and iso­la­tion will be height­ened for those who feel excluded from the Christ­mas scene. To be a part of it requires money and love, or at least com­pany. The dif­fer­ence between the ideal and the real­ity presents us with a roller-coaster of emo­tions that is frankly exhausting.

I saw a film this week that pro­vided me with a lit­tle pearl of wis­dom to carry around in life. My first ever view­ing of the 1946 peren­nial Christ­mas clas­sic ‘It’s a Won­der­ful Life’ left me cry­ing, smil­ing and sud­denly appre­cia­tive of every­thing I have. It tells the story of George Bai­ley, a man on the brink of finan­cial ruin and sui­cide when he is vis­ited by a guardian angel named Clarence, who shows him what the world would be like if he had never existed. Suf­fice to say, it’s a lot worse a place with­out him.

I have never wanted to find out what the world would be like if I didn’t exist. But the dead­lines are approach­ing, the loan is run­ning out, I have nowhere to live next year and I could quite eas­ily sleep for a week if I had the time. Yet I have so much to be excited about that these things are rarely trou­bling me for long.

In fact, Christ­mas in gen­eral for me is like a month-long replay of the afore­men­tioned film. I return home to the ful­fil­ment of that West­ern pic­ture: a happy fam­ily, warm fire and good food. It is enough to say that I am reminded how incred­i­bly lucky I am.

This, on the back of the best term at uni so far. A word of advice to any fed-up, self-doubting first-years: sec­ond year is so much bet­ter, so keep at it. From being almost ready to quit last Feb­ru­ary, my ‘pub­lic sphere’ now revolves around some great friends, a great news­pa­per, a great course and some­one great I’ll be shar­ing mulled wine and mistle­toe with. It really does feel like a won­der­ful life.