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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.
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