The season for giving

Dear People Who Love to Give,

I love gifts, but this year, I'm unusually poor due to a confluence of circumstances that have arisen and expectations that I just cannot fulfill at present. This is not a complaint, rather it is an unfortunate fact of life that has caused my previously (more) prosperous pocketbook to languish in pools of dust from lack of use.

In particular, I love to give gifts. As you can assume, it is fairly hard to "give" a tangible thing to another person when you don't have the means to gain access to tangible things.

And so, I've let myself off the hook as far as actual, real, material gifts go, and I plan to make the following pledges, and hand them out as gifts:

My gifts to you:
I promise to love you, the best I can.
I promise to listen to you when you have things to say.
I promise to be there for you in your hour of need.
I promise to care, and be concerned, and to worry about you should painful/unhealthy circumstances arise.
If I am able to, I promise to help you.

Simple things. I suppose if I were to summarize the list, I offer to my loved ones, to be the best friend that I can be. This gift won't be perfect, but I promise I will do my best.

Every Christmas I also like to get a gift for myself. In the past I've given myself new shoes, or a little piece of jewelry, or the luxury of a meal at a decent restaurant. This year, since my pockets continue to wheeze dust and moths, and since I can't even get gifts for my loved ones, I especially cannot afford a token for myself. And so, I will make a pledge or two to myself; and instead of gaining in material goods, hopefully I will gain in that special way that only the immaterial can allow.

The gifts to myself:
I promise myself good food, and a healthy life.
I promise myself the love of good friends, and the will to expect that from others and to seek that out.

Happy Holidays!
XOXO Olivia

definitely *not* keeping it together...

Dear savers of face (addendum to previous post),

Just so you know, it's probably okay to have a meltdown. And I think most people can empathize with a meltdown.

About two days ago, around midnight (my meltdowns usually happen at night for some reason), I had a mini melt down.

I had spent the previous five days feeling extremely ill (due to my neverending flu), and I just crawled into bed beside my boyfriend, and began whimpering.

He said, "Awww... sweetie, what's wrong."

Big mistake on his part. Personally, I think if someone's crying, and you acknowledge that crying, I just makes them cry harder... At least it does in my case!

So I start blubbering about how I feel like such a loser because I've been so sick, and how I suck because I'm unemployed, and how I feel like such a burden. I went on and on about how even though I feel sick, I feel like I have to clean and do all the house stuff, and I feel like I can never let anything fall apart, and how everything needs to at least look decent, if not fantastic. I blubbered on like this for about 30 minutes, all the while feeling guilty, because he had to wake up for work early in the morning.

And he, the eternal darling, murmured, "Honey, it's okay to let things unravel for a little while. You don't have to be on top of everything all of the time. I don't care if things are messy, or if you don't feel like getting dressed. And who ever comes over? Just take care of yourself while you're feeling shitty, and let the rest do whatever it's going to do."

It was like a breath of fresh air!

So, it took awhile to digest what he said; but today, I let go.

I laid in bed until past noon. I didn't do any dishes. I made my SO cook. And I pretty much read and watched TV all day.

You know what?

The world didn't stop. No one said anything about anything. And, best of all, I actually feel better.

Letting it unravel, one thread at a time,
O.
PS. "Letting go" seemed to have some karmic advantage, since I got my first call for an interview this afternoon! Woohoooooooo to letting go!

the true tragedy of illness and mental illness

Dear Directors of Unhappiness and Stewards of Despair (and Everyone Else to Whom This May Apply),

I think the greatest myth of our time is that we are supposed to be "happy." Not content, not satisfied, not well fed or comfortable; we are supposed to be happy in that pathetic sappy Hollywood way.

I have never met anyone who is happy. I have met content people. I have met satisfied people. I have met successful people. I have met comfortable people. And I have certainly met people who are well fed. But I have never met a happy person.

In actuality, I have met a lot of sad people. I have also met lot of people who are stressed and anxious. And I have met many, many people who are afraid. But mostly, I have met people who are lonely.

I'm not sure what causes loneliness, except for the obvious; an absence of people to share your life and experiences with. But I think most people can attest to feelings of being alone even when they are surrounded by a substantial number of people who love them.

My feelings of loneliness are most likely to happen when I feel like I can't communicate with the people around me. And I'm not talking day to day stuff, like, how's the weather, and oh, how are you. I'm talking about being unable to share my feelings, being unable to share how an experience has affected me, and generally being unable to relate important aspects of my life to people who I think would generally want to know that information.

So when people talk about feeling lonely, it's not always because they don't have friends. Loneliness can be a result of the people in your life not being 'active participants' in your life.

When I first became symptomatic many, many moons ago, the memories that are most vivid in my mind are the memories of loneliness. It was a feeling that sat deep inside of my chest. A feeling that bore the weight of a stone, and a feeling that often resonated as if it had just been struck with a great force.

In a world where mental illness is effectively swept under the carpet, and where discourse is not free and open, I think the everyday person does not have access to the language that is needed to discuss issues of mental health. I also don't think that there is enough accurate knowledge of the everyday experiences of people living with mental illness residing in our 'collective consciousness.' (Our collective consciousness being the sum of experiences and knowledge that most people of our country are likely to come across in their lifetime.)

The little knowledge that does exist in our 'collective consciousness' has been coloured by negative stereotypes and dangerous mythology. Some of these stereotypes and mythology include: i) That people with psychosis are dangerous and more likely to hurt others. ii) That we can't trust the somatic complaints of women because they are more emotional and are thus more sensitive to the effects of stress (ie. histrionic). (Thanks for your wonderful contributions, Freud, you misogynistic ass!)

So I think the true tragedy of illness and mental illness is that too many people who live with conditions that affect their mental health are unable to communicate their experiences with their loved ones. I think this breakdown in communication is what creates the loneliness and despair that resides in the hearts of people affected by illness.

So when I despair about the disease, that is my despair... that I cannot communicate with the people I love. And when I think about the tragedy of illness, that resounding sense of loneliness is the first thing that materializes in my mind.

Your doorman (to the portals of communication),
O.