18 - Community: Part 3 - Ode to Friends and Family
I was in grade 8 when my grandmother on my mom’s side passed away. It quickly became apparent that my grandma had been in charge of everything in her household, including taking care of my grandpa. It only took about one week after she passed for my grandpa to get food poisoning. As a result, soon after, my grandpa moved in with my family.
My family has many stories about life with grandpa and my grandpa had stories of his own to tell. He would talk about friends he had during the war, often referring to one character named “Bummy Finster.” We would smile and nod, inwardly dismissing this and other odd “memories.” My grandpa had dementia, so we figured he often got mixed up and unknowingly fabricated such things as cartoon-like characters for friends.
My grandpa also had mobility issues and as time went on, he spent more and more time in front of the TV. I always found it interesting that a man who was made to go to war, who lost a brother and at one point his own mental health to that same wartime experience, would then spend the remaining years of his life watching mostly movies and shows about the war. I don’t think a day went by in those nine years that he lived with us when I didn’t hear the theme song to M*A*S*H or the sound of gunshots behind the voice of a narrator to a wartime documentary.
But one TV show that wasn’t strictly war-related emanating from my grandpa’s TV every day at noon was All in the Family. For those of you who aren’t familiar, All in the Family was a TV show in the 1970s centred around a grumpy, right-wing, ill-tempered middle-aged white man named Archie Bunker. His character was drastically contrasted by his wife, Edith, who was sweet, caring and accepting of all people. The show brought to light social issues of racism and discrimination in the 1970s by both comically and dramatically putting Archie’s character into situations where his discriminatory attitudes would be challenged. This highlighted just how ridiculous his beliefs and behaviours were by making us laugh, while Edith’s character added compassion. There may be some question around making an asshole-like character a likeable protagonist - the satire may be lost if such a protagonist is endeared to us and their actions normalized when they should otherwise be held accountable. However, writing this out I’m somewhat disheartened to think that All in the Family is still likely on point and relevant today - that the social issues haven’t improved all that much and the moral questions in that show from the 1970s still remain more than just pertinent.
When All in the Family played in my house every day at lunch time, teenage-me didn’t yet fully comprehend the complexities of these issues. Instead, what stuck with me was a less complex but still very important quote spoken by the caring Edith Bunker. I loved it so much that when I got picked to be valedictorian at my high school graduation, I included it in my speech, where it got a great applause and laughter.
When thanking all the people who helped get us high schoolers to graduation, I took a moment to acknowledge the role of friends with this Edith Bunker quote:
“There are gold ships and there are silver ships,
but there is no ship like friendship.”
In my previous posts in this Community series, I have shared how important I feel that sense of community really is for my recovery and for everyone’s well-being. I’ve shared how I’ve lost communities and have gained new ones. This post in this three-part series is more than just an acknowledgement; it is a sincere recognition and thank you. A thank you to every one of my friends and family, from past or present communities, for every moment you have ever helped me carry the burden of this chronic illness, whether it be on your vessel of gold, silver, pirate or fur-trading; whether you have a typical name or one as cartoonish as Bummy Finster.
There are so many moments of sheer kindness that I am grateful for. There was this one time, over a year ago, when I had a particularly bad day struggling with depression. A friend of mine had just returned from a long vacation and was in town only for a couple of days before hitting the road again. When they called me to arrange a get together, my response was: “I don’t know, I’ve been crying all day and I’m a useless shell of a human being right now.” Their response brought me back into my human carapace: “I’d like to see you and I’ll take you as you are. When can I come over?” They did come visit and when they left, without me noticing until later, they wrote on my kitchen white board REMEMBER YOU ARE LOVED. It is still there today.
Another friend of mine from long ago now lives quite close to me - a metaphorical hop-skip-and-a-jump away, though I could easily spend my walk to their apartment hopping and skipping all the same. When having challenging moments with anxiety, I have been known to call this friend. “What can I do?” They may ask. “I could really use a hug.” I’ve replied. “I’m on my way.” And in moments a friend-ordered hug shows up at my door.
Anxiety is one of my day-to-day, week-to-week realities. It’s not always easy to talk about. But I’m lucky to have a few friends with whom discussing this side of me is so easy and so enlightening. “You don’t have to ignore your anxiety,” one of them has said to me. “You can see your anxiety as that person at the party you don’t want to hang out with all night. They’re going to be at the party - you can’t change that. But that doesn’t mean they are going to ruin your fun. You’ll leave them in the kitchen and every now and again you’ll check-in with them, have a bit of a conversation, then go about your merry way. That’s better than being frustrated, angry and upset that they are there. Simply let them exist.”
Phone calls are really important to me. I can’t always go out and texting often hurts my brain. This leaves me feeling isolated. I got a call one day from one of my rock climbing friends from Winnipeg who had moved out to Vancouver for university. For several years I spent the month of August out that way camping and rock climbing. This particular friend credits me for getting them into the sport as I invited them one year on this trip, it being their first ever outdoor rock climbing road trip. “Hey Krystal! I just wanted to call you because I was thinking of you. Remember that burrito place you took me to in Vancouver? I now live right around the corner from it!” We didn’t just talk about burritos though…we also talked about this epic gelato place that was a must visit every year I went out West! This conversation may seem trivial to you, but 1) I love burritos and gelato and, 2) rarely do people (including myself) actually act on those thoughts to get in touch. Not only did this friend call this one time, but they continued to call and check in every couple of months. The conversations weren’t super long, and they didn’t need to be. Every time I hung up the phone, I always had a big smile on my face. It’s honouring when someone takes the time to reach out.
My mom deserves some big recognition too. We don’t live in the same city. There was a period of at least one year in these past three and a half when I called her almost every single evening. I find evenings hard - particularly in the winter. It’s the time of day when I can feel at my lowest. Every evening I called, my mom picked up the phone without fail. Even today, every evening that I call and my parents are home, my mom will talk and listen to me, no matter how down I am or how shitty I’m doing, no matter how little there is to actually talk about. The number of times I have lamented over not being able to do anything, and the number of times my mom has mentioned shopping at Costco, would probably astound you. I am sure it takes a certain amount of emotional resilience for a parent to listen to their daughter struggling and in pain and to be so far away, unable to fix it. Yet my mom does it and I am forever grateful.
I feel like I have a million more examples, which is nice considering historically it’s been easier for me to recount all the shitty moments during this recovery - I typically have a “glass half empty” kind of attitude. So it’s more than nice to take time to focus on all the moments you people have supported me.
Friends and family who have…
Driven me to appointments.
Cooked for me and brought me food.
Walked Bob when I couldn’t.
Picked up the phone when I’ve called.
Sat in my dark apartment with me in silence (lol).
Made crafts with me.
Got me colouring books.
Filled out online forms, looked up needed information online, typed up emails, text messages or other documents for me (including this blog!).
Listened to my rants.
Contributed to my rants.
Chaperoned me to social outings offering to leave at any time should I not feel well.
Requested that music be turned down or TVs be turned off when out at a place where this is unnecessarily a thing.
Invited me to your social events, even if you’re not sure I can come.
Helped me do things again for the first time like going to the mall, a theatre show, a restaurant or rock climbing, traveling and dating!
Given me the opportunity to and accommodated me so that I could be a part of a team.
Thank you for making me laugh, whether through improv or just your ridiculous life stories or bad puns.
Thank you for sitting with me when I’m crying and when I’m anxious.
Thank you for your hugs.
Thank you for listening to me and validating my experiences.
Thank you for sharing your stories and confiding in me the issues you are dealing with too.
Thank you for eating burritos with me.
Thank you for taking me out for gelato.
In a world fraught with injustice and tragedy, we can’t forget to acknowledge or show gratitude for our family and friends. The impact of these relationships stay with us for the rest of our lives…
My grandpa passed away when I was in university, over ten years ago. When going through his stuff, we came across some old photos. “Oh wow,” my mom said, “look at this.” It felt both joyful and satisfying - like combining how it feels as a kid the first time you find money underneath your pillow in exchange for your lost tooth, and how it feels as an adult when you are reunited with an old friend and it's as though not a day has gone by. I was holding in my hand a photo of my grandpa’s friends from the war. On the back, in old ink, there was a list of names of the people in that photo. Included was none other than one Bummy Finster.
From my heart and my brain to yours, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, to all of my Bummy Finsters out there.
- Krystal
Maybe you share this post, maybe you don’t. But consider going the extra kilometre to share some gratitude with the people close to you, in whatever way you feel is best :)
Cheers
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