Sympathizing with Scrooge: Mental Health and the Holidays
Sometimes, I sympathize with Ebenezer Scrooge. Not with his greed, his classism, or his tendency to eat gruel alone in his pajamas. But with his apparent feeling that the holidays are, perhaps, bothersome.
Scrooge believes that it is acceptable to be upset by the holiday season, and that is a bold claim. Bold enough that some who are reading this article just involuntarily rolled their eyes or gritted their teeth. Even bold enough that some may have stopped reading altogether. The simple suggestion that the holiday season is anything other than uplifting is—for some—enough to spark aggravation and anger. It is evidence enough to paint the suggester as a Grinch. A Scrooge. A villain.
And these reactions, expressed consciously or not, cause considerable stress for those who cannot easily enjoy the holidays.
Consider the underlying message of most holiday stories: Those who are not joyous are villains. Or they are shamefully ignorant, first-act primary characters. We shake our heads at Buddy’s dad, Walter Hobbs, until he decides to sing a Christmas carol in Central Park. We roll our eyes at Tim Allen until he reluctantly accepts his role as the new Santa Claus. And we hate Ebenezer Scrooge until he begins to joke around with Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim. Similarly overbearing concepts exist in Christmas with the Kranks (no one can outrun holiday traditions), Love Actually (love must be stronger at Christmas), and Fred Claus (we must save Christmas at all costs). Even our perceptions of the Grinch are suspect: Dr. Seuss’s ending—residents of Whoville singing joyously even without the colorful trappings of Christmas—is admirable, but most modern adaptations focus instead on the fact that the Grinch’s heart is “two sizes too small,” a cardiovascular condition that keeps the Grinch from emoting properly until he learns to appreciate the joys of Christmas. (No one without a heart defect would dare question Christmas. I assume all the Whos have perfect blood pressure.) These interpretations are simplistic, perhaps, but all these ideas are somehow present in their respective stories. And the general must-be-joyous-during-the-holidays undercurrents of these stories are certainly present in real life.
The modern holiday season demands happiness and gratitude, and those expectations place an unnecessary burden on individuals who struggle with mental health. For some, depression and anxiety peak during the holidays. For some, memories of death, divorce, assault, and other trials puncture day-to-day thoughts, releasing new waves of emotional pain. For some, holiday-fueled gratitude takes a back seat to self-preservation.
I can’t relate to Buddy from Elf. I can imitate his aggressive positivity, but I struggle to internalize it. And the intensity of the modern Christmas spirit—the pre-Halloween Christmas sales, the unrelenting carols, and the Brobdingnagian inflatable snowmen—serves as a season-long reminder of my inability to express the unconditional joy that the holidays demand.
And, on some level, I don’t want to be like Buddy. Mental health issues should not be romanticized, and my depression is not something I desire. But I appreciate that my awareness of the nuances of mental health allows me to connect more effectively with those who struggle through holiday celebrations. We must support and believe those whose mental or interpersonal circumstances act as holiday inhibitors. Too often during the holidays, cries for help are met with pontifications about gratitude, joy, and family. Like Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof, some cling to traditions at the expense of relationships, and I do not want to live that way.
Sympathy, patience, and candid conversations are the solution. Some of us are incapable of singing “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” with sincerity. It’s not the “happiest season of all,” and we’re tired of pretending like it is. This does not mean that others must give up any ounce of their holiday spirit. Keep the pies and claymation Christmas movies. But it does mean that when your friend, your son, your daughter, your parent, your sibling, your coworker, or your significant other is struggling to match your level of enthusiasm, be patient. Pause the movie. Delay the decorations. Pump the brakes on the Christmas cookies.
Take a moment to sympathize. Resist the temptation to convince your loved one that everyone should be happy during the holidays. Instead, listen and support. Believe and validate.
There are many things that may make a person seem villainous, but an inability to express joy on command should not be one of them.
About the Author:
Ben Boruff is an English teacher at Wheeler High School in Valparaiso, Indiana. Ben teaches AP Literature and sponsors a number of clubs at his school, including National Honor Society, Debate Club, and GSA. In his spare time, Ben writes comic book reviews and advocates for public education. See more at BenBoruff.com.
