Its A Wonderful Life
Author: Ken Homer Issue: 2023-12-20
It’s A Wonderful Life
by Ken Homer
When I was growing up the holiday season was a fraught time in our household. There was the fun of trimming the tree and helping out with baking Christmas cookies along with the winter activities of sledding and ice skating and, of course, the anticipation of presents under the tree. But beneath the holiday cheer was a tension in our house that my young mind, still in single digits, was acutely aware of but unable to fully grasp. There’d be arguments, shouting matches which sometimes erupted into physical violence – often with me as a collateral damage. I can’t recall how many times the phrase: “Jesus Christ! It’s the holidays, can’t we get along for once?” was uttered.
My mom died in 1966 and the holidays got bleaker after that. My dad disappeared into a bottle, my eldest sister, who had been my protector, went off to college leaving me with my middle sister who had been bullying me since the day I came home from the hospital. Family lore has it that on my first night at home my middle sister came into my parent’s room to look at me. My basinet was right inside the doorway and while fumbling for the light switch, she smacked me in the face. That was the first of the physical abuse I would suffer at her hands until, when I was 15, she hit me for the last time, and I punched her so hard in the gut that she went down in a fit of coughing.
When I was a teen, my dad had lost his job and had no money so, no presents for me that year. Except, when we went to his lady friend’s house, I noticed he had managed to buy her some gifts. That was hard to witness and made me feel badly about us both.
Well into adulthood, I would get depressed at Christmas, and that was often accompanied by a cold or the flu. I injured my back unloading a truck at age 23 and so my back would tend to go out at the holidays too.
In 1998 I was having my typical holiday depression. It was a tough year. My dad had died two years earlier and I was struggling to cope with the legacy of his alcoholism and how much I missed him. I had become withdrawn and had almost no friends. My back was out. My eldest sister invited me over for Christmas and asked me to pick up her daughter – some 20 miles out of my way – which I gladly did. I arrived, we watched the kids open their presents and for a little while I basked in the warm glow of a family Christmas with no fighting. But about an hour after I arrived, my sister said the following words to me: “It’s time for you to go so we can have a family Christmas dinner.”
In my entire life, I have never heard anything more shocking or painful. I assumed that I was family. I stammered something, turned my face away to hide my tears and drove home to spend the rest of the day alone. It was the most bewildering experience of my life. I had managed to come to terms with the deaths of my mother and father, but I had no idea how to cope with my sister essentially exiling me from the family. I had always heard that family are the people who have to accept you no matter what. Apparently, that memo was never received by my sister.
Most of what I recall of that day is emotional devastation. I sobbed and I wept, and I sobbed some more. I hadn’t felt so alone since 1980 when I nearly died of dengue fever on Bali when I was alone and 10,000 miles from home with a temp of 105ºF.
For the rest of the day, I took stock of my situation. Out of work, hardly any friends to speak of, the son of a drunk, with my own issues around addiction, severely depressed, exiled from my family, wondering what I had done to end up in such a dark and confined space as this. My life felt empty and pointless and, while I had no thoughts of harming myself, it was hard for me to find many reasons to live.
Afternoon gave way to evening and I found myself watching It’s a Wonderful Life on TV. In the scene where Jimmy Stewart was crying over and over that he wanted to live again I felt something my heart give way and suddenly I too wanted to live again. I never again wanted to feel as low as I felt that night. As the movie drew to a close and all of George Bailey’s friends came in and showed their love and support, I made one of the best decisions of my life. I knew I could no longer count on my family to be there for me if I needed them so, I resolved then and there to do whatever it took to build a community around me, so that, should another dark day befall me, I would have people I could reach out to, people I could count on who’d love me and help me.
It took years to make the required changes. I had to look at all the ways I was an asshole, sadly, there were many, and then I had do the necessary and often painful healing work to show up as a likable person. I had to learn to be kinder, to be more patient, more understanding, humbler, less of a know-it-all. And I had to learn to deal with the anger that possessed me – much of it passed along to me when I wasn’t looking. I had to learn the hard truth of Maya Angelou’s words that people will forget what you say and forget what you do but they never forget how you make them feel.
It's been a bumpy ride, but I have managed it for the most part. My middle sister died in 2012 shortly before her 60th birthday. I tried for 25 years to get my eldest sister to recognize the harm she caused me that Christmas, but I was unsuccessful and ultimately had to make the incredibly difficult decision to sever our relationship. While it is painful to not be in relationship with her, it is not as painful as being in relationship with someone whose gaslighting behavior and denial of our shared past makes me crazy.
I no longer get sick at the holidays. I no longer celebrate Christmas either, preferring to honor the return of the light at the Winter Solstice. I am sure I still have some way to go to fully be the person I resolved to be 35 years ago, but I am mostly at peace with how I show up in the world these days, and I do indeed have a chosen family, people I love and who love and support me.
To all the people who have helped me along the way, especially those who suffered from my behavior and still offered their forgiveness, understanding, kindness, and friendship I offer my deepest gratitude.
May whatever Holy-Days you are observing be filled with the light of wisdom and the warmth of compassion.
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