Giving

For anyone who is speech disabled, the holiday season can be a difficult and challenging time. It is a festive period, filled with lots of social activities and the unspoken pressure for all of us to be “merry.” However, if one can’t fully participate because they have no voice, or the voice is weak, painful to use, or limited in its functional ability, the holidays can be a lonely time.

Limited for decades by my inability to speak normally, it took me a long time to learn how to have fun during the holiday season. I used to dread it, feeling anxious and worried about each social engagement. I was always preoccupied with my lack of a normal voice and, because of this, I completely missed the beauty of the season for years.

Growing up, almost everyone I knew was Jewish. My sister and I received presents during Hanukkah and even on Christmas morning. Our observance of Hanukkah taught me about my heritage. It gave me a deep sense of family and the best that it represents. However, my parents still hosted a large gathering on Christmas day (to celebrate my Uncle Irving’s and Aunt Sophie’s birthdays), but I had very little understanding of Christmas. As a child, I only knew that the late fall and early winter meant there would be lots of big family get-togethers and some gifts.

I didn’t know anyone who celebrated Christmas until I was around eight years old and became friends with Christina Olsen. The Olsen family was one of the few on our block who weren’t Jewish. I loved going to their house all the time, but it was a special treat during the Christmas season. It wasn’t so much about their beautifully decorated tree and the smell of freshly baked cookies in the air; it was about the feeling of warmth and sincere welcome that greeted me when I walked through their door. The love of family in my home was certainly present at the Olsen’s throughout the year, but during the holidays there was also something else.

As a teenager I began going downtown in my hometown of Chicago to see all of the Christmas decorations. It was fun to get lost in the crowds, gaze at the beautiful window displays, and see what the stores were selling for Christmas. There were so many things I would have loved to buy, but I never got anything. What I came away with, though, was that same feeling I picked up in Christina’s house. It was a spirit that I could never quite describe. I didn’t fully understand it then; I only knew that it made me feel good and I wanted to be a part of it.

When I moved to California at the age of twenty, I had been struggling with my inability to speak normally for almost ten years. I always forced myself to be outgoing and I made many friends, lived with people from all walks of life and of different faiths. As I formed close bonds with people who celebrated Christmas, I was invited to attend their holiday parties. Instead of getting excited about all the social activities, I dwelled on my speech problem. When November approached I often wondered, “Will my voice be good enough to enjoy myself this holiday season?” Focusing on my most vulnerable area, I usually was not very merry. I was anxious. At times I was depressed.

In my thirties I began making holiday gifts for a few good friends and loved ones. I baked cookies, made homemade apple butter and other concoctions, or had people over for hot cocoa or a nice winter’s meal. I didn’t feel like I had to spend a lot of money; just give something from the heart.  As I became a more serious cook and baker, I noticed myself looking forward to the holiday season. If my voice was gone or not all there, I might still get anxious about going to social gatherings, but it didn’t bother me like before. I no longer obsessed on myself; I was too busy figuring out what I could make or do for others.

Over time I understood that the spirit of the holiday season was all about giving. That was what created the warm, cozy feeling at the Olsen’s house and the joy among the bustling crowds of shoppers in my youth. Eventually I realized how wonderful it was to give. I couldn’t help but notice how any act of helping, sharing or giving altered my mood in an instant, from somber and dark to happy and light. It was like magic.

Recognizing how much giving gave back to me, I began to look for opportunities to do it every day. I now try to give through my work, with friends and loved ones, and – often– with people I don’t even know. It can be as simple as listening to someone who needs to vent, or picking up an object that someone has dropped, or letting another driver have the right of way because they seem to need it.

My voice has been gone many times over the holidays and at other social occasions. I can feel it starting to go this year before Christmas, and I know that this will be the case for the rest of my life. However, when I focus on others and what I can do for them, I forget about what I don’t have. Growing up unable to speak, there were many times I felt almost useless. The simple act of giving has changed that. It is a constant reminder that each of us has something to offer.

If you suffer from a speech or other disability, I hope you give of yourself. Giving immediately connects us to others, and creates a sense of unity and belonging. It certainly is one of the best things I can do for me or anyone else. It is a gift that gives to us all.