Merry Christmas. Really.

So I’ve been sulking.

I don’t know what else to call it. I sit around and think of all the horrible things that have gone wrong in the past two years and I brood. I’ve even asked ‘Why me?’, the immortal question for which there is no answer.

I would look at my computer and I just wanted to scream at it. Maybe I did once or twice. Everything turned black. My humor was gone. My tolerance was at an all time low. Who would want to read this shit? I have nothing to say. I am mean as a snake, as cruel as a house fire, as discerning as a rat in a garbage can…seriously, why would I write?

Then I got an email from a friend named Cheryl. And it was Christmas morning. Somehow she joggled something and suddenly I wanted to write again. I wanted to draw a picture. I wanted to punch my right wing Uncle Dave in the head for being an asshole and having asshole opinions.

I started feeling better.

It all happened in a minute. There I was sitting on the couch with my iPad taking pictures of my nephews who were trying to be enthusiastic about the socks and pajamas and ties they got (Did I mention I can be evil as well?)
I thought I’d read some emails while the unwrapping of gifts went forward

(‘Ooh look, a sweater that’s too short in the sleeves!’)

I got a simple, short email from Cheryl. She had cancer too. She has a tough row to hoe but for some inexplicable reason, she seems to get through it all without whining and crying and blaming and feeling sorry for herself. And she somehow, out of her crazy busy schedule, she somehow took a minute to write 4 sentences and, I don’t know why, but it fixed a broken part in my brain.

(‘Is this a coffee mug with your little dog on it. Fabulous!)

I tuned out for a little while and thought about what I do. The things I do that would inspire a smart, busy woman to take a minute out of her holiday morning to write to someone who has been unresponsive and silent for months.

Am I a good person? Am I a good writer? Can I be funny? Am I smart? Am I a good friend? A good daughter/sister/auntie? And then I realized…

I bought socks and ties for my teenage nephews. I’m a jerk.

But not always a jerk.

I occurred to me that I think about you. Yes, you Kate. And you RedDog. And Jackie Mallon and Wingmother and Mr. Sugar Bears and Andra and Nate and that policeman in St Louis who is so funny and that young mother in the midwest who makes videos with her chihuahua…I thought about you all while I was in this black hole. It was something…it didn’t make me responsive or inspire me to write, no. But it made me feel guilty. And sometimes that’s a good thing. Just ask Mrs. Roz, my friend Cindy’s jewish mother.

I was guilty of not contributing. I didn’t even try to shine a small light into the world. It’s not that hard to do. I have a little, tiny, weeny flashlight in me and I just let it lie there.

I’m a jerk but not always.

I want to say thank you.

Thank you Dora, for being on my new coffee mug even though you peed on the kitchen rug.

Thank you Christmas tree for cheering me up and being so pretty.

Thank you Walter for being so gracious about the Wolf tee shirt I bought you.

Thank you Martin for the trip down memory lane.

Thank you Ryka for being so cuddly and…and…never mind.

Thank you all. I am sending a hug like this one to each and every one of you.

I’m going to write again. Even if I only have rants and raves and curses. I can make them funny, and maybe that will help me look at them in a different way. Maybe I will stumble on an insight and maybe if I do that I will find a moment of peace.

Maybe, when I am back in that chemo bed on Tuesday I will draw a picture or…write? I don’t know…but one thing I do know.

I’m taking the sweater back to Macy’s.