A Speech for a New Brother

My Katie got married yesterday...
 

just a couple of old married ladies!

...and while the following words aren't I said, they are what was written on the piece of paper folded and clutched in my left hand like a talisman.

(feel free to imagine your own amusing interjections from the audience- they were a mouthy bunch ;)

***

So here's the thing about this speech- I've been working on it for months.  You can ask Katie- every week or two she'd get a text that was mostly expletives, and generally concluded with, "I'm never going to be able to write this thing!"  And the reason why, is that every time I started to wax poetic about the beauty of our decades-spanning love, I kept tearing up like a ginormous baby.  And as much as I like to joke that I was just going to come up here, sob for five minutes, and then sit down, that's not really the speech I want to give.  So I realized that if I want to get through this thing without getting all blotchy and mucous-y, I 'd better address it to Kevin.

Kevin.  Man.  First of all, I have a confession to make: back in the early days of your relationship with Katie, I told her she should break up with you.  It's true: I did.  But not because I didn't like you- actually I liked you quite a bit, I thought you were awesome- but I didn't think she was ready for you yet, so I advised her to stop seeing you for a while, until she was ready.

Good thing she didn't listen to me, right?

Because here's the thing: she really wasn't ready for you, and on her own she might never have been.  But you were ready for her, man, and that's the key.  And you are such a far-seeing, clever bastard:  Katie's heart was like this wild little falcon, fierce and wary, easy to startle- but you stood there with your hand patiently outstretched, just waiting.  And she circled you, looking to see if that hand would be snatched back, or used to hurt her, or to curtail her freedom in any way... but it never was, and it never did.  And eventually that fierce little falcon came closer and closer, until at last it nestled in your hand, tamed without even suspecting you of it.  No hood, no jesses: just trust, and love, and respect.  Faith, and a willingness to stand firm no matter what.  And, of course, a mutual appreciation for Elfquest.

That last bit is actually pretty important in this particular moment, because it means that Kevin will understand exactly what I'm saying when I tell him that Katie is my soul's sister.  And now that you've married her, you've become my brother, and you will never, ever get away from that.  And I know that sounds like a threat, but it's a promise, really.  A promise to love you and look out for you forever and ever, because that's what you've promised to my Katie.  That's what she's promised to you.  You're lifemates, now, and I not only wish nothing but the best for you, I'm willing to go to the mat to help you fight for it.

So here's to Kevin, the clever, lucky bastard that captured my best friend's heart!  And here's to Katie, the clever, lucky girl who let her heart be captured!  But most of all, most importantly, here's to the both of you, and to your long and happy marriage!  I love you both so much.

Everybody's Talking About It, So Why Don't We?

Here's the thing about dealing with Depression: if you've been dealing with it for long enough (and twenty years is plenty long enough, thanks) you start to recognize the "It's Coming" symptoms.  If you're really lucky, you've also learned to maybe brace yourself a bit for the inevitable.  Knowing that It's Coming means you recognize Depression when it shows up, and recognizing Depression when it shows up is a large part of not falling for the whole, "This is just the way life is, and the way it is, is empty and pointless," shtick that Depression likes to bring along.

For me the warning signs are a combination of factors. First I start to feel more sensitive to things- not emotionally, mind you. Physically. Lights are brighter, sounds are louder, my body feels like it has some low-grade tingly adrenaline running through it at all times, especially through my stomach, and my feet, bizarrely enough. This leads into a bit of a manic period, which isn't so bad. I'm on, and shit gets done, especially Creative Shit. But then it starts to leach away- everything does, but the clearest indicator is the loss of body heat.  I become cold. Always cold. That's how I know that Depression is on the doorstep, if not already inside.

It's inside today. I woke up and there it was, crouched in my chest and making itself comfortable in the over-crowded chambers of my heart. I greeted it with the sort of resigned familiarity that you reserve for particularly unwanted- yet unavoidable- house guests, and then I went back to sleep because dealing with Depression is Exhausting.

That's what I was thinking to myself later, as I was brushing my teeth; I know the things I need to do to battle my Depression, but gods damn it, I get so tired of it. It's so much easier just to give up and give in and stay in bed and sleep until it goes away again. Isn't this just making it worse? my brain whines.  Wouldn't succumbing to the Depression be so much easier than this constant trying?

Obviously it would be. But I've already set up my Auto-Pilot Program, and by gods I'm going to keep running it. Show up at Work, do the Things, send the Emails.  Smile when you talk and make Jokes and go through the fucking motions.

I resent every moment of it. I have every right to be Depressed, sulks my brain, and it's just bullshit that I'm not allowing myself to wallow.

No, I say right back, in that voice that sounds suspiciously like my mother's. I have a right to be sad. I do not have a right to derail my life, not while other people count on me. And they do.

Some lessons take root deeper than others. Deeper than Depression can reach, down past the brain and the blood and the heart and the bones, down into whatever it is that will be inside of me for as long as there is a me.  Sometimes my ability/tendency to shut off my emotions in favor of logic is a frightening thing to me, because it makes me feel less human than the people around me.  Other times I think it's the only thing that allows me to continue functioning, especially in the face of Depression, which overwhelms so many other aspects of my Self.

Anyway there's no real point to this entry- it's just me processing things with words, as I do.  And this too, shall pass.

It always does.

Coda

The day before I began this 365 project, I posted a kind of Prelude- I think it's only appropriate that I should wrap things up with a coda.

(...a word which, incidently, I love as much as if not more than prelude...)

In a way it's difficult to believe that it's finished. Not so much that I did it- I definitely put in enough effort to believe that I friggin' did it- but that now... I don't have to. I don't have to post this if I don't want to. I don't have to post anything if I don't want to. I don't even have to write if I'm not in the mood, not even a sentence stating that I'm not in the mood. And in a way that's a liberating feeling- but in another way it's sort of... bewildering. When you've done something every single day for a year it (as I've mentioned before) ceases to be a "project" and is just "what I do". It would be like telling me I don't have to brush my teeth any more. Ish.

Of course, I do have something to fill the gap. I start my new 365 project today (and Nathan thinks I'm a wee bit insane to be starting today- he says he will probably wait until March to kick start his next one). I probably will not be as regular about updating, because let's face it- scanners are not as portable as net books. But sketch books are, so I will be drawing (or what have you) every day, and I'll just post them in chunks when I can. I hope you'll stick around to see how that turns out for me... and, of course, I'll still be writing, because let's face it- you can't quit a habit like this. The only difference being, you'll only be subjected to the stuff I feel is actually worth reading. So that's a win-win situation, right? Sure it is.

It's raining outside right now, quite violently, and I can't help but think it's a sign for this coming year- the raining down of blessings on my bewildered little head.



(PS- I went to tag this post and my fingers automatically started to type out 365, as they ahve done for... well, three-hundred and sixty-five entries... and I just had to laugh at myself.)

Grasshopper Richey

(A Bonus Entry With Little to No Interest for Most of You)

So my newest nephew went ahead and got himself born suuuuuper early this morning (thus rendering obsolete my title from Wednesday). We didn't get a chance to go over and see him until around five or six (Nathan had been out of town, and didn't get home until after four) and by the time we did the grandparents were taking off for the night. That was alright by us- fewer people to compete for tiny baby cuddles!

This is the first time I've ever been around a true newborn, and I will admit that I'd braced myself to tell some convincing lies regarding his cuteness. Not that I didn't trust my brother and sister-in-law to combine their genes to their best effect, but because I have no illusions about the general hideousness of babies before about two months. Add to that the fact that Grasshopper was induced early (pre-eclampsia, and all that) and I was prepared for some shrively, off-putting baby flesh. Teeth-grittingly prepared.

Fortunately for everyone, Grasshopper felt no need to follow typical baby protocol. As it turns out he is not at all scrawny, is in possession of a lovely round head capped with a thick golden fuzz, and looks rather less like Winston Churchill than most. Clear skin, good color, and didn't cry at all while I was holding him. Even half-opened one dark blue eye to check me out (they are liable to stay blue- both parents are recessive that way).

I was completely and utterly blown away by how friggin' perfect he is. Everything about him delighted me, especially his ridiculous lack of eyebrows, which he worked up and down to great effect. And yeah, I know- tiny infant perfection is not exactly news to most people, but you have to understand that I am not, in general, a fan of babies. And I did not expect to be particularly impressed by this one (I know, I know- worst sister-in-law ever). So the fact that I was absolutely captivated by him, that I found myself using that most horribly cliched of words, "precious" (I cringe to hear myself say it because other people have practically removed any and all meaning from it by applying it to the stupidest things)- well, I'm more than a little astounded.

The best part was being able to palm his little grapefruit-sized head. It just fit so snugly into my palm: I was utterly, utterly charmed.

Nathan got a lot of really nice portraits of him- maybe we've found him a new career path?

Prelude to a Blog

I have always loved the word "prelude". To my mind it is (understandably, I suppose) a musical word- but more than that it is a gentle word, a half-lit word, a word of shimmering possibility. It hints at what's to come, but fully reveals nothing. It is a veiled dancer of a word; a flickering candle of a word; a pearlescent-sky-streak-before-dawn of a word.

In short; it is a good word, and I like it.

I don't know yet what this blog will be about, other than I plan to put something in here for every day of the coming year. This post doesn't even count, really- it's just that I'd set up a shiny new blog, and I wanted to go ahead and put something in it. So there will be no pressure to "Begin My 365 Project!" tomorrow, the first day of the New Year- because it's already been begun, in it's own hazy, ill-defined way.

I find that most resolutions are best done that way- snuck up on, rather than made a fuss over. We'll just have to see how the rest of them go...