A gift

The strong outlines of the young man’s face are very appealing across from my usual seat at the dining room table. His lithe muscular figure is easy on the eye, he is always joyous; we’ve only been recently introduced by a friend and are “getting to know each other” so most mornings are a discovery, largely because mornings are the quiet time, lost in contemplation and meditating to mostly gird my loins against another day.

His apparent happiness is appealing, coming at a time when life perhaps is not so much, filled as it is with days that make me want to weep.  The temptation to return to the oblivion of SSRI’s or even Bupropion to counteract the entire appalling overload is tempered by knowing that feeling nothing is not the answer. It would be too easy to ignore the cause and to not address the real reason that every morning also brings the rising panic and nausea associated with anxiety.  An anxiety that is not caused by feelings of inadequacy or low self esteem but finally, knowing that each day is spent denying the truth and my own self worth.  That’s the magic of the little happy pills, an expensive luxury for not only do they take away the emotions, they also remove any responsibility for dealing with the root causes…well except for the physiological ones which are also present. While not denying that they have been and are still extremely useful, in this situation, they would be a sop, a refusal to face the truth, and live a lie I will not.

Coming at this time my new friend has made a difference, he gives me pleasure, to just look at him and what he represents. My friend, in giving him to me did not realise the magnitude of his gift or how much I would appreciate him. You see, in giving me my young man, my friend expressed his own love for me, it is something that to treasure because this friend, is someone that not only do I love, but I admire.  He has chosen to chart his own path through life, working at his art, though criticism, lack of understanding by a buying public and sometimes, difficult life situations do not necessarily make it easy.  Through the years he’s held my hand more times than I can count and his unwavering support has gotten me through many a bleak day though he does not always know it.  His experiences have given me perspective and has also helped me to understand that really, we aren’t normal, but that’s probably a good thing, because we were meant to be different, to be special.

The reality is, most of my friends are like this, the real people who surround me, love me and know me have given me leave to support myself, to honour the work that I do and more importantly, to accept me, whatever. It is the greatest gift that you can give to any friend.  The young man is a beautiful drawing, given to me by the artist, I take great pleasure in looking at him and appreciating what he really is; a sign of true affection and trust. And knowing that someone thought enough of me to consider what I might like and to give it to me; how lucky is that.