After Christmas

Christmas is over and I have survived.  Pause for applause.  Thank you Gentle Reader.  You are very kind.  After a couple of brief battles with depression early this month I got through it.  It seems that the dark shadow that had been squatting over me every Christmas for the past twenty years has finally flown back to the circle of Hell it calls home.  This could even be the best Christmas I've ever had.  Nothing special really.  And yes there were a few people around who tested my patience, and perhaps vice-versa, but there were so many more wonderful folks around.

I actually did give a gift, even.  It was neither planned or expected.  I was having coffee with two friends of mine last week and one of them wanted to write down my work number.  No one had any paper, so I offered him one of my bird drawings that I had with me.  He picked one.  On the back I wrote my name, my work number and the words "Merry Christmas."  My other friend didn't want one, claiming that there is no more space in her small apartment and the walls already are holding art given her by other friends.

I have mentioned that writing last Christmas the three posts "Hanging Christmas Out To Dry" and re-posting them this year has been enormously helpful.  Please Gentle Reader, you are most welcome to make use of these writings for future Christmases should you find them of value.  One very dear friend also gave me an early Christmas gift of $100 and a lovely card before he left the country for the holidays early this month.  I also kept my emotions on a very short leash and made good and sure that every bout of depression would be as brief as possible.  Instead of wallowing I used the down times for prayer and reflection.  I truly observed a good Advent this year.

I also had the wisdom to leave a toxic church, St. Paul's Anglican in the West End of Vancouver, where I languished for six years, doing everything I could to belong and feel included in a parish full of cliquish snobs, many of whom probably would have frozen Jesus out of the place had he arrived in person. (so sue me!).  This parish has a collective borderline personality disorder.  Every single Christmas, except for two or three grudging Christmas Eve dinners, I was left high and dry for Christmas Day.  Many knew that I was alone without family or friends and they simply ignored me.  One of them even had the colossal gall to chew me out for asking around if anyone would be willing to include me in their Christmas celebrations.  He certainly didn't. Yes I am throwing it in your faces.  Live with it!  Last May I packed up and moved to a different church, St. Anselm's, and I finally feel as though I am in a community that welcomes me and where I can participate and my gifts are welcome.

At St. Anselm's they had a Christmas Dinner for students and parishioners.  I came for dessert following work.  I had a blast.  I did work Christmas Day as usual at Venture the psychiatric facility where I work.  It went sublimely.  I chatted with clients, we did a long walk in the beautiful weather, then some of us did some art together and I stayed for dinner and had enjoyable random chats with people.  And the manager gave me a gift card for Chapters.  Earlier in the day I had coffee with my Mexican friend, whom I gave a Christmas Card (my only one).  It is one of many that I have that contain images of my art:  The painting itself is big, three feet by four and the image from my website is overexposed.  It is much darker than this but it's still beautiful, eh?  The title: La Danza de la Noche, Spanish for the dance of the night.  I have become a bit shy around offering images of my art.  People all have different tastes.  And some who likely hate my work will still say it's lovely or nice.  I think this happens a lot, for which reason I no longer trust what others say, or don't say about my art.  What is important is that I am satisfied with my painting.

Altogether it's gone well this year.  Better than ever.
Happy New Year Gentle Reader.