What is left to say about 2021? Somewhere between the optimistic start to January, we all got battered about relentlessly by endless setbacks that affected us all in some negative fashion. At the end of the calendar, I am as exhausted by the endless shitshow as everyone else I know, but still grateful to still be here to ring in 2022 when too many of those we knew and loved are no longer with us.
It was a year of tremendous loss for me, my family, and some near and dear to me: the deaths of parents, spouses, siblings, friends, or beloved pets left us with huge holes in our hearts, and we struggled through major changes or issues of mental or physical health. Despite these challenges, there were beautiful, joyous moments: births, weddings, or reunions between loved ones. Each one was a powerful reminder that we must be open to all of our experiences because to be human is to resist the overwhelming numbness that this prolonged pandemic has caused in too many lives.
I lost my wonderful godmother last week. In her passing, I remembered some of my favourite moments with her. She had a wicked sense of humour, and managed to make me howl with laughter when, just two weeks before her death, she gave me orders about how to use my inheritance from her: “buy an airplane and tell your husband not be a sissy and learn to fly it so he can take you to Scotland and anywhere else you fancy.” Clearly this woman understood what mattered to me, even though I suspect she hadn’t kept up with the cost of a Lear jet in many decades. I hope there will be many such anecdotes shared—both at her funeral in California come early January, and in the years to come by we who were a part of her long life and loved her dearly.
If I have learned anything from this brutal year, it is that our experiences shape us and our stories matter. Not one of us is the same person from last year.
For me, this was a year when the negative effects of my lifelong ADHD began to surface and cause a downward spiral of anxiety and poor emotional self-regulation. I was so fortunate to have the support of family and friends to get me through some difficult moments, and even more so to find a temporary refuge in Scotland for part of the summer, where I could seek sanctuary and try to recharge. In the stillness of the majestic beauty of the Scottish landscape and in the company of the many exceptional friends I have made there, I found solace and a respite from my overwhelming distress. I sat around restaurant and family tables eating and drinking, climbed some mountains and waterfalls, wandered through picturesque towns, canal banks, Roman ruins, old historical sites and newer attractions, and at each occasion there were moments of either profound chats or light banter that eventually drew loud laughs with the cherished friends I have met and grown close to there over time. Sometimes, the walks were silent and reflective, and the three and a half weeks I spent there allowed me to really connect with my friends and my own thoughts, and to become more aware of each one of us and our individual situations as a result of the social interactions.
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I came home at the end of August better equipped to begin the journey of introspective discovery into my “neurodivergent brain”. In learning the origins and major symptoms of ADHD, I have realised how little we know and comprehend about mental health conditions in general, and how much we misunderstand the links and overlaps between many of them. A return fall visit to Scotland with my husband was a second boost of great joy, allowing us to: attend our first concert in nearly two years, celebrate the wedding of a special couple, go on a few adventures with close pals, catch up with other dear friends, and finally see long bucket-list destinations that had eluded us on previous trips due to inclement weather.
Catching Del Amitri in Perth!
I am a few weeks away from beginning the therapy that will hopefully allow me to develop coping strategies for the stress caused by the many disruptive symptoms of my brain chemistry, such as overthinking, anxiety, self-destructive empathy and insomnia. One of the best things I did upon my return from the second trip was to divulge my struggles to friends via social media, messages, and telephone or live chats, hoping that the effect of doing so would encourage those similarly struggling to do the same. I feel it is vital for us to keep connecting with one another so that we not only feel less alone, but also to remove the stigma and shame that still surrounds mental health care in western culture. More open dialogue is long overdue if we are to change outcomes for all people suffering from such conditions as depression, anxiety, PSTD, ADHD, OCD, or bipolarity, to name but a few. As a lifelong learner and teacher, I know the importance of modelling and really hope that we will rise together by standing up and telling our various stories to one another, and that in doing so, those listening will lend a compassionate ear, and then accept those seeking support and love with open minds and hearts.
My 2021 story ends a feelings of inner peace and calm that eluded me for most of the year and the cautiously optimistic sense that gentler, kinder days are coming for the next one. I am immensely warmed and humbled by the ongoing love, support, and encouragement of my family and the dear friends who all helped me through some of my darkest moments, and forever grateful to those who shared those joyous bursts and wonderful adventures with me here in Toronto and in Scotland. I’ve realized that we need to lift each other up as best we can, and that it is crucial to focus on those who genuinely care and therefore make it easier for us to bring out our best selves. We also need to find the strength and space to tell our stories to each other, because it is in the sharing of our experiences that we not only grow and heal but also help others to do the same; removing the stigma that surrounds certain difficult subjects allows everyone to develop greater awareness and understanding of all human struggles, which leads to greater empathy and deeper, more meaningful social connections. Not all of our past is sad or traumatic, and the telling of lighter moments or ridiculous mishaps will also permit us to laugh and ease our sorrows as they allow for affectionate teasing and hilarious banter. The closeness and trust we can develop with those we love from both types of racontage are precious, and it how deeper friendships are forged and kept strong.
2021, as it happens, will allow me to leave you with one such final tale of serendipity: in the first few days of the year, I realized my wedding band had disappeared. I am quite prone to misplacing my glasses and various jewellery items, and so naturally felt I would stumble upon it rather quickly. After a thorough search of the house, I accepted that the panthers had likely batted it off a shelf or counter and sent it into one of the vents, and eventually gave up the thought of ever finding it again. Today, on the last day of the year, after our New Year’s Eve plans were cancelled due to a guest’s illness, I spent the day cleaning and decluttering and came upon a box given to me by my sister in November 2020 after her wedding; peering inside, I found last year’s Christmas and birthday cards, a few trinkets, and in a corner, two silver-coloured rings. The thinner one was my white gold band. If there was a good omen needed to convince me that 2022 will be a better and gentler year, there it is.
Gathering ideas and taking notes on the lawn near Linlithgow in the summer sun...
In July, during my imposed quarantine at the start of my first Scottish holiday, I started to consider what my next writing project would be, and shifted from wanting to create and publish another rock fiction series. Inspired by a recent re-reading of Rush drummer Neil Peart’s Ghost Rider, I have settled on the blending of a memoir with a travelogue of sorts, and I am cobbling together a collection of stories and reminiscences of 20 years of travel to my soul’s home. The first visit was a stopover on the way to my father’s German funeral, and as I lost myself in the stunning, stark landscape of the Highlands for the first time, I found the beginning of my healing after weeks of profound grief. I have never forgotten how much Scotland saved me in 2001, when we knew no one, and how each subsequent visit made the land and its people more and more important in my life. Trust me when I tell you there will be hilarious moments, if I make it the publishing stage without the threat of lawsuits by my beautiful co-conspirators and partners in crime.
As we turn the page on 2021 and wake up to a new calendar year, I hope everyone reading this will realise a few truths: we are more than enough exactly as we are, and we deserve all the beautiful things life has to offer, including love and affection; let’s not make ourselves different to please others, neither more nor less, but instead be our best authentic selves so that the right people will come and stay in our lives; we are not defined or limited by our physical or mental conditions, and if we love ourselves first, we can then love others and make the world a softer, gentler, and kinder place for all. Let’s be bold and brave and love fiercely and fearlessly then, shall we? I’m in and hope you will join me, because the band James is right, there is nothing but love.
4 comments:
I'm going to read this again before commenting...
oh, wait... xx
Beautiful and perfectly put! XO
Beautifully put, well said, and wonderfully inspiring, Anne-Marie. Thank you!
Thank you for the kind comments. Onwards and upwards. xx
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