Because I'm happy?

I woke up crying again this morning. This is not the first time this has happened and I guarantee it will not be the last. As I lay in bed, unable to sleep, and unable to make the dark thoughts leave my consciousness one question floated by somewhere from the recesses of my mind, faint at first and then louder until it was all I could think.

Have I ever been happy?

The answer is most assuredly yes, right? It has to be yes. I grew up in a beautiful town, surrounded by loving people and was always encouraged to follow my passions. I must have been happy at some point. And even now, I have pursued a career in what I love, surely this must bring me joy. Rationally and logically I would have to say that yes, definitively, I have been happy at many points in my life.

Here's the rub though...emotions aren't rational and they aren't logical and they can consume your mind the way a spider consumes a fly. Picture it: Your emotional well being is kinda like that fly, alive, free, flying wherever it wants and sadness is the web. When first caught you will continue to flap your wings, pulling from the trap, attempting to free yourself but the more your struggle, the more you fight, the more the web closes in on you, the closer the spider gets until you are stuck in a web, wondering how you got there in the first place and if or how you'll ever get out.

As I lay in bed, tears streaming down my face, my mind wanders to the zoo. Odd, at a time like this, that I would think about the zoo. I think about the animals there, caged, set to routine, in some cases alone, far from home and I realize why they have come into my thoughts. My life, in many ways, mirrors that feeling. My life has become a zoo and I am an animal in a cage. Again, when speaking rationally, I know that I am free and I am extremely grateful for the freedom that I have based on many factors bestowed at birth. Here is where the irrationality of sadness rears it's ugly head again. I awake to routine, I eat at pre-determined times, I sleep far more than I should or not at all, I have lost the drive to breed. Just like a resident at the zoo I have become caged by my emotions. Unable to change the situation, I have succumbed to it.

And there is that nagging question again...have I ever been happy?

There is guilt that comes with this question. I love my husband with what feels like the entirety of my being. I know he tries his hardest to make me feel better when I am sad. I love my parents who have done nothing but tried to make a life for me that they knew was worth living. I love my friends and colleagues. I would do nearly anything for them and many of them have come to my rescue when I needed it most. This isn't about the amount of love in my heart...it's about that damn spider...that chokes off that love...that keeps my mind in a place where I am incapable of feeling anything but numbness. Numbness or anger. Anger at myself for not being able to shake this feeling. Anger at others for not seeing me here, trapped in this web, twisting in the wind. And there it is again...guilt...because I shouldn't be angry at anything but my own body chemistry. This is a physical problem and, as such, shouldn't there be a concrete physical answer? Yet again logic and emotion collide and the web closes in. I remind myself that happiness is not quantifiable. This ever present question of happiness may not be answerable...

Then another question sails by on wave of thought, fleeting and strange...am I going to make it?

The most honest answer I can give? God do I want to.

I want to be the fly that breaks the web.
I want to be the caged bird that sings.
I want to be the woman who finally concurs the underlying, lifelong issues.

And there it stands...I want to be. No matter how bad it seems or how bad it gets:

I. want. to be.

I am...

Mrs. Euphegenia Doubtfire, dear, at your service...

It is with a sad heart that I reminisce about a man who touched the lives of many, in various and profoundly different ways. When someone legendary passes away, no matter how, we feel a collective sorrow. It's as if everyone in this world, for a moment, is feeling the same emotion, the same loss. Although we do not have a direct personal connection with celebrities we still feel a connection, an attachment to that person, an attachment to the feelings that they have made us feel. As much as we are made to believe that everyone in the world is special there are those of us whose light shines just a little brighter than others. I think we can all agree that Robin Williams is one of those people. (I choose to use present tense here because we do not lose our light in death. Memory, in many ways, shines brighter than reality.)

I have touched on depression in my blog in the past and although I know that is the topic fresh on everyone's mind in regards to his passing I choose instead to discuss a specific memory of this silly, talented, intelligent and wonderful man. His legacy is that of laughter and tears, childhood reminiscing and adult maturity. I know it might seem odd at a time like this but my mind immediately jumps to drag.

Yes, that's right. Drag.

Everyone who knows me (or has met me for more than 30 seconds) can tell you that I have an intense love of the art of drag. I have studied costume design in college (Shakespeare was all about drag), lived with Queens (best roomies I ever had), gotten tens at a Ball (beaten out by a Canadian pop star! DAMN!) and just generally love the art, creativity and humor that creates an iconic Queen. Every drag queen that I have ever known is fiercely intelligent, funny as hell and has the unique perspective of an individual who has embraced both the masculine and the feminine within themselves. Do these attributes remind you of anyone? Robin Williams clearly had them all.

Mrs. Doubtfire came out in 1993. I was ten years old. I vividly remember going to see this film in the theatre and laughing until my face hurt, if I was allowed to buy make up yet I would have needed one hell of a touch up! This was, essentially, my first drag show. I know many people who instantly fell in love with Euphegenia Doubtfire, Williams' charismatic, witty and outlandish drag persona. At a time when equal marriage rights weren't even part of the discussion yet here comes a white, straight man donning a full body suit, old lady drag and charming the pants off of every one, liberal & conservative alike. Williams had this unique ability to incorporate femininity into his comedy in a way that was genuine and respectful. He played roles with such depth of feeling that you couldn't help but identify with his characters. This movie also features Harvey Feirstein, Danny's (Williams) gay brother and partner, skillfully helping Williams make his transformation into drag. For those familiar with the movie they will know the “drag montage” scene while they are creating the Mrs. Doubtfire character is full of popular gay culture references (in particular a pretty hilarious Barbra impersonation) in which Williams skillfully touches on his knowledge and appreciation of the gay community in a way that is not parody but respectful deference. It was not until many years later that I understood the subtle nuance of this scene. It was as if Williams was saying, “This movie is borrowing from your culture and I know and respect that.” I believe it was his nod to all the queens that helped inspire his characterization.

Mrs. Doubtfire obviously wasn't Williams only foray into drag culture. Who can forget his iconic role in The Birdcage starring opposite Nathan Lane? Or even his hilarious take on Aladdin's Genie (which also features multiple gay culture references)? Williams was a comedian who was not afraid to take risks and was intelligent enough to straddle the line between comedy and offense always falling on the funny side of the line. He portrayed characters that were warm and accepting, poetic and comical and the world, in my opinion, needs more of this brand of comedy. We need more people who truly take the time to learn and embrace new cultures and identities. In Aladdin the Genie famously says: “I can't make anybody fall in love with anybody else.” Well, Robin, one thing is for sure, you made us love you.

I will leave this blog off with a simple thank you. Thank you, Robin Williams, for sharing your life with us, for making us laugh, for making us cry and for most importantly making us think. There is one particular quote from Mrs. Doubtfire that stands out to me and had this movie been made in the early 2000s I'm sure it would have included a reference to same sex households:

“There are all sorts of different families, Katie. Some families have one mommy, some families have one daddy, or two families. And some children live with their uncle or aunt. Some live with their grandparents, and some children live with foster parents. And some live in separate homes, in separate neighborhoods, in different areas of the country - and they may not see each other for days, or weeks, months... even years at a time. But if there's love, dear... those are the ties that bind, and you'll have a family in your heart, forever. All my love to you, poppet, you're going to be all right... bye-bye.”

I hope that wherever you are now, Robin, you know that there IS love and you will live on in our hearts forever.

Depression and the S&M of SM

Well it's been awhile...and I could make up a myriad of excuses as to why I haven't written in some time but the fact of the matter is it's winter, I'm busy and I'm struggling. Now, now before you give up and stop reading I will say this isn't a “woe is me” post by any means. More of a series of observations I have made of late that I feel might apply to more people than myself. This is about my relationship between depression and social media...and I sincerely believe there is one...

For those of you that know me well (or are the least bit observant) you will know that I have struggled with Depression and Anxiety for nearly all of my adult life. I am obviously not alone. I would bet top dollar (USD, CDN) that many of the people I know have a history with these demons. It's like fighting a life long war. There are times when I win battles, there are times when I lose them but the war rages on continuously. I've been to therapy, I've taken medication, I've read books, I've done yoga, I've bought shoes, I've gone to the other side of the earth and back and I've worked very hard at making peace with this inner struggle. I have always lost. Actually “lost” is the wrong word. I have always come back to the fact that I prefer living with this disease than taking a pill that makes it go away. It's a part of me. We've lived together for so much time that I feel a very symbiotic relationship with these feelings. It sounds strange but I don't feel myself when I don't have periods of extreme sadness in my life. We've all seen/heard the “Depression hurts” ads and although I loathe hearing those words they couldn't be more accurate. There are days when it quite literally HURTS to get out of bed. It's as if gravity decided to play an evil trick on your body for the day, pushing down harder than it ever has before. Think about walking around all day with weights hanging off of your limbs (I know a lot of people compare this feeling to wading through water but I actually find that to be an extremely pleasant experience. This is not). Unfortunately, the physical pain is nothing compared to the mental anguish. Simple day to day tasks become nearly impossible to complete and sleeping (when insomnia doesn't take hold) turns into my only respite. When I hit a low point in this battle and my reserves are nearly spent, I hate myself. Self hatred is one of the worst forms of torture. There is little that you can do to talk yourself out of it because you're the one causing it. I end up feeling like the Three Faces of Eve, trying to convince the voice inside to stop being so negative. So what happens when I can't make the inside me feel better on it's own? I turn to social media.

For those of us out there that engage in social media interaction (and let's face it...you won't be reading this unless you do) we are all familiar with the idea of the “Facebook coma”. When you stare blankly at your Facebook account watching the lives of others scroll past while not really living your life at all. This is perfect (and I am using this word satirically here) when I am depressed. I already feel like life is passing me by while others live to their fullest potential. Now I have a WEBSITE to confirm this for me! Halleluiah! Social media is a place we turn to for validation. Validation that there are others out there who are like-minded (or not...),validation that we look good, validation that we are funny and for me, validation for why I feel so f***ing shitty sometimes. Now, underneath it all, when I am being rational, I know I feel sh***y because I am engaged in a lifelong battle with a really sh***y disease. When I'm depressed I can find any number of reasons on FB as to why I'm feeling the way I'm feeling. The highlights? “Wow, I used to be so skinny” “Wow, all of my friends are doing things that are WAY cooler than I am” “Wow, I didn't understand that really intelligent thing someone just posted, I must be an idiot” “Wow, I don't have a baby yet” “Wow, I don't even know if I want a baby” “Wow, I just spent the entire morning fighting with someone on FB for no reason. I am a terrible person” “Wow, no one liked my post that I thought was super clever” ... this list could go on and on and on. When you're sad, it's really easy to find reasons to continue to feel sad. The problem with social media and depression (the S&M of it all) is that you can be present in many people's lives without actually being present at all. You can shut yourself off from the world while still making it seem like you are a part of it. I can't tell you how many people tell me “I love you on FB”... this is such a double edged sword. Truth be told, I love that people get a kick out of me on FB. I do. I am an entertainer at heart and I love knowing that people find entertainment in the things that I do. (so if you've ever told me that you found me amusing on FB, thank you, I actually really appreciate that). The problem arises when I stay at home, instead of engaging in ACTUAL person to person interaction, and sit on FB because I still feel like I am being social when, in fact, I am not. The irony of calling it “social” media is it's really anything but. It's not social to sit in your room, alone, and watch your friends/loved ones live their lives. It is easy to hide behind my computer screen, feeling the way that I feel, while making it look like everything is fine. Isn't it funny that when I am being the most ANTI-SOCIAL is when I spend the most time being “social” on social media. Now don't get me wrong, I love being able to log into FB and see people that are all over the world and I love being able to stay connected to people who I love that I don't get to see every day. When I'm feeling better emotionally this is a wonderful way to see what's going on in the world, when I'm sad I will sometimes sit and stare at my screen and cry. Also, I am not going to stop using FB. I could say I will, that I'll deactivate my account and be FREE but, at the end of the day, I like FB. I just have to be very careful about keeping my relationship with this site a positive one. I have plenty of real reasons to feel the way I feel and how many "likes" I get on a post isn't (or shouldn't be) one.

So what is the point of all of this? I guess I figure that if I am feeling this way, others might be feeling this way too. I have recently read a few interesting personal accounts of people's battles with depression (I think it's mental health awareness month or something...) and it helped me to know that although this is a personal battle, there are others out there fighting the good fight too. So I'll leave you with that thought. That I, like many others, am fighting the good fight with myself. I don't wish to win (does anyone ever “win” in a war?) but rather, as I mentioned above, to make peace with myself. One of my favorite writers, Emily Dickinson, was a well known recluse. She kept herself tucked away in her house in Massachusetts and after her death her sister famously published her impressive catalog of work (she had previously only published about a dozen poems). My favorite:

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you–Nobody–too?
Then there's a pair of us! Don't tell! they'd advertise–you know!
How dreary–to be–Somebody!
How public–like a Frog–
To tell one's name–the livelong June–To an admiring Bog!

I can't help but wonder, what would Emily Dickinson's FB page have looked like?