Christmas is a time of acts of kindness, unexpected reunions, spiritual experiences, and miraculous life-changing events. Many Christmas seasons ago, I watched a movie based on a famous story that embodied all of them.
In the mid-70s, my brother-in-law insisted I watch Scrooge—a film adaptation of Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol starring Alistair Sim—airing on TV that night. I was in my early 20s, several years before the repressed memories of my traumatic childhood surfaced. Not far into the film, I recognized a certain identification with Scrooge. Key differences existed, of course—I loved Christmas and abhorred treating anyone with cruelty—but I couldn’t escape the similarities.
Like Scrooge, I often felt awkward and lonely at school and struggled to connect with friends. Scrooge buried himself in books while I buried myself in fantasy games—sometimes destructive ones. As a teenager, I avoided social gatherings since they made me feel nervous and terrified of committing a social gaffe. “You’re too damn logical,” my brother would always say, “totally out of touch with your emotions.”
Although Scrooge enjoyed social gatherings as a young man, he grew to disdain them, becoming consumed with acquiring wealth. Already in my mid-20s, I was growing consumed with a political career and dreams of becoming president. I typically found conversations at parties trite and uninteresting. What mattered was success and mastering political skills.
Although I was concerned when folks in my social orbit suffered, I wasn’t stirred when those outside of my orbit needed help. And most troubling, like Scrooge, I realized I wasn’t capable of a long-term intimate relationship, petrified of growing too close to anyone. I sensed a deep wound buried inside me that I didn’t want to face.
So when the stingy and sour Scrooge changed overnight into a giddy, jovial, and generous man who could interact with ease around anyone, I was amazed by his sudden transformation. That night in bed, I wondered if it could ever happen to me. The hope that such a transformation was possible stuck with me from that night forward.
My time finally came, and I found myself on my own Scrooge-like journey. First, I had to confront my past. Although I didn’t have the Ghost of Christmas Past to guide me, my sister received a spiritual vision one night that revealed we had forgotten events from our young childhood and our future happiness depended on remembering them. It ultimately led to our recalling our time in MK-ULTRA and other childhood traumas. Various factors, including my memory of Scrooge’s transformation, caused me to pursue a healing journey—aided by two gifted therapists and deep healing techniques.
I got better, but like Scrooge, I still had two big things to confront. My sister, like a Ghost of Christmas Present, told me in no uncertain terms what a lonely and miserable life I led. “All you do is sit at your word processor and write or obsess over what happened to us as kids. You need a wife and family. Do you want to turn into a lonely old man?” She handed me the telephone number of a dating service and told me to call it. Not in a thousand years, I thought.
The year before, I had experienced a nightmare of the future that loomed if I achieved my political dreams. Like the Ghost of Christmas Future did to Scrooge, I was shown the horrors of what could befall me—and countless others if I succeeded.
So, I had given up my political dream of becoming president and doubled down on healing.
But healing is a process that takes time and can be harmful if you face too many psychological wounds at once. Unfortunately, that is the tragic road my brother took. So I tried to modulate my healing journey, taking one steady step at a time.
Then, unexpectedly, we experienced our own miracle. The same evening my sister confronted me about my lonely lifestyle, she and I felt our most significant memory block collapse. Together, we retrieved the memory of a beloved mentor who was the beacon of love and understanding in an otherwise terribly dark place. He was our guide, our teacher, our spiritual healer, although he was still a boy. It was because of him, as my therapist explained, that our psyches were able to survive the horrific abuses of MK-ULTRA. With the repressed memories lifted, we recovered the experience of his love and hope.
The next morning, like Scrooge, I realized I’d transformed—and knew I’d call that dating service number. My life was permanently changed.
“A Merry Christmas to us all; God bless us, everyone!”
