On September 19th, I will turn 50 years old. I hope.
I usually don't contemplate the actions and behaviours of celebrities, but the infamous 'slap' felt around the world had me thinking.
First, how prophetic Chris was 20 years ago when he wrote the the skit "Smack Rampage' for his show. Little did he know he would be the recipient of said smack. Luckily, the hand that smacked him wasn't ashy (can you imagine?)
But, mostly, I've been thinking about how out of control we have all become in the quest to right all wrongs in 5 mins or less.
It's been a rough couple of years for all of us.. I think we all need a hug. I also think we need to retain a little perspective, and humour as well.
At the beginning of May, I received a message from a co worker telling me that a fellow co-worker, Lori, had passed away. She was only 47 years old, and passed away after a three year battle with cancer. I wasn't particularly close with her; we never worked directly together, even though we worked at the same company for many years. However, I am saddened by her death. She was so young, and had 5 children.
The continuous discussion regarding alopecia was in the back of my mind, that my initial thought, shamefully enough, wasn't about her 5 children, who were motherless, or about her husband, who has now lost his soulmate,
It was about her hair.
You see, Lori was "Lori with the good hair."
Not in a Beyonce sort of way.
She simply had (in my opinion), beautiful hair.
it was always immaculate.
It bounced.
It behaved.
A slight woman, you would often see her hair before you saw her.
The day before her funeral, I went to her viewing. It was nice to see some faces I hadn't seen since 'the Before Times'
Milling around the room, as I made my greeting and listened to the soft voices around me, I noticed something.
Not one person was talking about her hair. Not one.
There were expressions of shock at her passing (she fought her battle quietly).
She was a big fan of Minions, and they were scattered all around the room.
Her family did not pass around Clairol samples, but handed out white Lillies instead.
There were tales of her kindness, her love of animals and her love of family.
Funny how death keeps everything in perspective, doesn't it?
As Im getting older, I realize that perspective is everything. it is the difference between living to fight another day, or ending up at the morgue because you tested the wrong person.
Perspective helps you keep the devil from riding you like a donkey.
A sense of humour does that as well.
In my almost 5 decades of life, you find that no one gets out of this race without scars.
I suffered from depression from the ages of approximately 12 to approximately 40.
I won't go into the details about the ups and downs my 28 year journey with major depression was,
I will just say that I was functionally depressed. I've been able to hold down a job, but I was deeply unhappy. A close friend and co-worker, Randy, once said to me, 'you should smile sometimes.'
I wore my unhappiness like a shroud.
I remember the day I decided that I had had enough, I was walking down Yonge Street and I asked myself "What do you want? you can't continue to live like this... you are in stasis."
Even though I had been going to therapists for years (can you imagine the horror of running into one of your classmates in Dr 'Everything-Gonna-be-Alright's waiting room back in 1989? 1989, a number, another summer? Trust me, that's 'blood pact of silence' stuff in 1989) I never had one that could actually help me the way I needed to be.
That day, in my late thirties, I finally sought out a therapist who spoke my language, and was able to begin the process of re-learning how to think. I had to figure out what my triggers were. I was a lot of hard work. No one likes to talk about how you can get used to being depressed. Depression is the ultimate frenemy, and it can be hard to let go. But, eventually, I was able to gain the tools to help me keep my mood on an even keel, and to build resources that will be needed in future when the dark days return again.
The goal? going to therapy BEFORE you smack someone.
I now feel happier then I ever have before. But looking back, I think one of the things that kept me alive was having a sense of humour about the situation, however dark. One of my favourite poems to recite to myself when feeling particularly down goes as follows:
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
and drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful
You might as well live,
That simple, sardonic poem often kept me going in the moment.
Humour is a little bit like a glass of wine after a hard day, It takes the edge off. Keeping Humour helps you keep perspective.
You know, Alopecia sucks. However, there is no such thing as stage 4 Alopecia.
You don't have to begin settling your affairs with such a diagnosis.
There is stage 4 Fibroids, however. Not officially, but there should be.
Stage 4 Fibroids is when you are bleeding so heavily that you can't leave your home.
Stage 4 Fibroids is when you go to Island Strains in Montego Bay to have a wonderful evening full of vibes, and end up being carried out on a stretcher into a cab semi-conscious after destroying the peoples couch.
IF I didn't have a sense of humour about that embarrassment, I would never set foot on Jam-Rock again.
My flight leaves on the 22nd, and my first stop on the way to Trelawny from the Airport will be Island Strains. #UterusFree
On September 19th, I will hopefully, with any luck, complete 50 years on this planet, My goal is to maintain my sangfroid in these dark times, and my sense of humour, I hope you do too, take care, and may we all see better days ahead.
Special thanks to Nicola Yardy (photography) of Coin 8 Studio, and Truth Artist (Makeup) for their work in making the GI Jane project possible
If you are interested, a couple of our colleagues have put together a fundraiser to help Lori's daughter fulfill her dream of becoming a doctor. if you are interested, please donate. I'm sure Lori would have loved that.
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