The Best and The Worst of Us

There seems to be little doubt that it is the more extreme and emotional situations in our lives that reveal the true natures of our characters. Our many and varied weaknesses and our incredible and laudable strengths are revealed as we are buffeted back and forth beneath the waves of a relentless force of life over which we have little or no control. There is no escaping these revelations of our humanity to our loved ones and others, who likely are already aware at least to some degree of the existence of them, and to ourselves, who may be basically clueless that we possess certain traits until the very moment we are in the throes of the crisis that brings them bubbling to the surface of our being and shocks us beyond words with our own perfidy or devotion.

I write this because of the realization that I have come to regarding my many struggles with depression over the past several years. I always felt they were due primarily to the circumstances life placed me in that were beyond my control; the loss of beloved pets, the loss of close family members (also beloved), the battles with relentless diseases faced by many members of my family, financial woes, issues of failing health both for myself and for those I love, and so on. I now realize that, although such things are often extremely difficult to bear, the ensuing struggles with depression are not merely "natural" but a reflection of our inner struggles with at least two of our strongest weaknesses: anger and self-pity. The whole of depression is much more complex than that, both psychologically and chemically, so this is an over simplification on my part, but it is one that led me to a personal revelation I had not faced up to before. In many ways, despite the harsher circumstances of my life, my depression has been the result of my struggles with my own weaknesses, my own lack of strength in many key areas of my own character that have left me wanting and in need of help in areas where others people seem to have little or no difficulties coping. This was not so much a self-condemnatory revelation as the realization that we all have these areas of weakness within, as well as areas of strength. Its just that the areas of weakness are the ones that cause us the most trouble and so get most of the attention.

The toughest part of facing up to my own self-pity is the fact that I do not know how to not feel sorry for myself at having lost my younger sister. It has hurt beyond anything I ever imagined could hurt and I still struggle with the tears that come at odd moments as the holidays approach and I am reminded of how much Patty put into them for her childrens' sake. Last year we were still all in shock at this time of year. This year, although cushioned by time, we still feel the loss of the mother of the only two grandchildren of my parents, one of the four of our group of siblings, and the pressures brought to bear upon each of us because of that loss express themselves differently in each case. I am alternately weepy and determinedly celebratory. Our brother, whose own struggles with mental illness have left him utterly defeated and , in many ways defenseless, feels the pressures and stresses of the seasons but may not link them to Patty's not being here. "She who wishes to remain anonymous" is likely burying herself in a multitude of other pursuits, perhaps taking moments to cry, perhaps not and if not, becoming more and more stressed out with each days approach to a formerly very joyful time of year. Dad and our stepmother may be going away for the holiday, undecided as of our last telephone call, and I have assured them I will take my brother out for Chinese on Christmas day and make sure he has gifts to open and so forth. I will miss them if they choose to be elsewhere this year, but I can also understand their desire to get away and experience a different sort of celebration.

My plans for Christmas involve the baking and decorating of a zillion little Christmas tree shaped cakes and the delivery of said cakes as well as candy canes (the good kind) to various places we have done business, and found friends, over the years and to various family members as well. Not a very generous gift in many ways but time, unlike money, is not in such short supply right now and I am looking forward to making each little tree as unique as possible. I hope everyone will know that the same amount of love is going into these little cakes as went into last years packages, bags, and bows. (UPDATE: Due to illness and injury - the usual stuff - I only got one batch of the little cakes decorated and delivered. They were eaten and declared delicious by my Dad and stepmom and one other plain batch delivered to my niece, who had requested that no icing be used on her cakes. The rest of the cakes sat in the prretty green boxes in our kitchen until they grew some very interesting types of mold which, though icky and sort of fuzzy, was quite interesting to look at and squish agaist the sides of the boxes as I dumped all of them out. There were not quite a zillion of them so there was not as much waste as would have otherwise been the case. There was, however, a great deal of regret at the lost work and happiness those cakes could have redeemed. This year. - I.)

Some of those friends the cakes and candy canes will be going to have also been suffering. At least two of our acquaintances have lost very close, multiple family members within much shorter frames of time than we have experienced and my heart goes out to them both. I will shed a few more tears this year that are not on my own behalf and that I know are not born of self-pity, because they are for others who are struggling this year as we were last year. I will try to stop by to say a quick "hello" to both of them and , hopefully, bring at least a little cheer along with the delivery of sugar shock supplies. The gifts will be for all of the people who work for them as well as for the individuals themselves as that seems the right way to handle the holiday issues here. Hugs where they may be needed will also be administered.

Last year, in the midst of everything, I found some little tear-shaped mini ornaments. I bought all I could find wiht the thought of perhaps writing a poem for family members and gifting each with the poem and a "tear" in honor of missing loved ones, but I think I will do something different instead. For years now I have been slowly gathering ornaments - nothing too expensive or showy -with the thought of someday having a Christmas tree of icicles, snowflakes, birds, and a white angel on top. To that I will add the tears, opalescent and crystalline, as a reminder that, in our humanity, there will always be tears and loss intermingled with the beauties and joys of being alive. Such is the price of living.

Many happy moments for each of you during these holidays. May love, peace, harmony and happiness become foremost in life in the years to come.

Izzlebug

23 More Days Until Christmas - Kid Time

As my niece reminded me on the phone last night, it was only 24 more days until Christmas! (Now down to 23 days.) I have a feeling I will hear the continued countdown each time I speak to her until the eagerly awaited event has passed. As with last year, the holidays without her Mom, my younger sister, will be different and difficult, but not in the same way as last year. Last year we were all still in shock. In many ways this year feels like the first one without Patty, but it is a milder grief, more of an intense loneliness than the gut-wrenching pain of having just lost her we were all experiencing last year.

Despite the depressive tone of my blog, I continue to write about my sister because I hope that anyone who may have experienced a similar loss, assuming they happen upon this spot in cyber space, will know that they are not alone and decidedly not abnormal for still thinking of their loved one more than a year after having lost them, especially not during holidays and other special times of year when family and friends are so much more in our focus than other times. We are not alone on this planet, this ever increasingly small globe of rock and earth we call home. It is normal to miss someone we have lost for years after the fact and we need to accept that certain aspects of grief last a lifetime.

That said, I would like to detour for a few moments to comment on an article I read in the Atlantic in the November 2008 edition. In an article titled Why I Blog by Andrew Sullivan, I found much of interest and much to encourage me about blogging in general. Although my blog has primarily been in the form of an online journal and more of a catharsis for me as my life has turned upside down in the middle of everything, Mr. Sullivan has opened new vistas for me as to the possibilities and true nature of blogging. Anyone serious about blogging, be they stolidly determined to remain the same (which may end up being me, I don't know yet - I'm still thinking about it) in their approach, or whether they are looking for a new way to express their own unique blogginess, will find much of interest in this article. The tone is upbeat and enthusiastic and Mr. Sullivan is both erudite and passionate about his subject but not to the point of being overbearing or know-it-all. I will provide the link, to follow, here but not in a very tech savvy way, for which I hope those of you more adept will forgive me for the moment, my mind and energies having been elsewhere for quite sometime now:

http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200811/andrew-sullivan-why-i-blog

Peace and happiness to all for this holiday season.

Izzlebug