Oh Robin.....Mr. Williams.....good night.

Yesterday, the World lost a gem.  a truly unbelievable gem.  I know he was an important icon, because 4 out of every 5 posts in my Facebook feed are about him.

And I cried.  Yesterday in shock... on the inside.  Not where people can see me crying.  I'm good at that, have been doing it all my life.   

And then it hit me.  This morning.  With every post being about his death, and his life.  Only not his real life.....Just the life he put on camera.  His funny (now that's an understatement), outgoing, extroverted, "Stage" persona.  The person he let us all see. 

I watched tributes, and read quotes, and saw image after image used as a byline and tribute to the man.  The man that none of us really knew.  He is gone.  And we didn't get to know him.  No one did.  Not even his loved ones.  Okay, I'm sure they knew his fight, and they understood the idea of his suffering, but no one really gets "in" to a person with mental illness.  With Depression.  Even those of us who share, or shared, his "affliction"..... those of us who really understood what he was up against.  We don't get to be "on the inside"...."sharing his pain".....

And today I cried.  A little, only, on the outside....But this void of grief sits heavy in my throat, in my chest, threatening to leak out in the form of more tears, and heavy sobs, at any second....

It hit me today, talking to someone I cherish as a friend and admire as a professional.  That mask really works!  It is possible, easy even, to hide one's true feelings from the world.  Too easy.  What's harder is trying to make the pain make sense to someone who doesn't experience it day-to-day.  It made me realize that most people don't "get it"... and never possibly could.   This isn't an insult, or a fault, or their lacking in any way.  Mostly just another realization for myself....

The pain of depression is nothing like anything anyone else can understand.  Even others with depression.  Each person lives within their own little sphere.  Inside the smiles and funny,  the false armoured image of self-confidence, self assured-ness, the shield we present to the outside world, lives each individuals' prickly little secret...like a prickly little ball that bounces around inside us...poking us, chipping away at our insides as we ride our bumpy rides of life.... 

Sometimes that prickly little ball is in our head - obscuring our thoughts, confusing our intentions, our ability to read situations, exhausting our brains, giving us headaches, migraines, creating vertigo, dizziness...making the knowledge of how to interact with our day-to-day functions disappear as it vibrates away in there.....  

Sometimes that prickly little ball is in our limbs - making us too tired or in too much pain to move, making them too heavy to lug around, too conscious of our own inabilities to even attempt the abilities....

Sometimes that prickly little ball sits right behind our eyes - distorting our view of the world around us - creating tunnel vision, or wavy vision, or even blurred vision..making us look "too fat" or "too thin" or "too pale"  or just "too ugly" to exist in public...to feel worthwhile.... bouncing and prickling us so that every smile from a friend or stranger seems distorted, insincere, making mole-hills look like mountains, every interaction needing to be questioned....read and reread....

Sometimes that prickly little ball is in our guts - tearing us up inside, creating physical symptoms, physical pain, nausea digestion issues, the need to eat incessantly, or starve...messing with our ability to lead normal lives...

Often that prickly little ball is in our hearts - making our ability to show or receive love and affection, even in our interest or ability to have healthy sexual interactions......

 

My entire life....I have questioned intentions, questioned my worthiness, my attractiveness, my desirability, my competence as a friend, a lover, a partner, a parent, a child....every compliment received tempered by my own disbelief, every compliment given amplified by my own envy.... It is exhausting...It is defeating..

A friend of mine posted this quote:

"Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don't kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive. When somebody dies after a long illness, people are apt to say, with a note of approval, "He fought so hard." And they are inclined to think, about a suicide, that no fight was involved, that somebody simply gave up. This is quite wrong." - Sally Brampton

That Mr. Williams fought the good fight for 63 years is no less than a miracle.  Look at every image of him.  Almost every one.  Look at his smile, and look into his eyes.  His eyes belie his smile.  His torment was available for everyone to see, every day.  If you only knew how to look.

 

 

 The most fitting end to this post is a tribute by a friend - I will post it just as I saw it:

  Thank you.

A little note about "making a deal"

Dear well-meaning bargain-hunting customer:

I appreciate that you are on a tight budget.  That you are single income, that you can't afford to spend the prices I may be asking for the products I create.  I hear you when you say you can buy a similar product at Walmart or Target or Macys for half that price.  I occasionally share your feelings when I see a beautiful piece of pottery that someone has handcrafted and know that I can't justify spending $60 on a mug.....

But here is where we differ.  When I see something beautiful that I can not afford, I do not ask the artisan to lower their price for me.  I do not ask them to sell me 3 or 4 or more at a significant discount.  I do not ask for them to give me things for free if I spend money on other things they make.Something that my potential customers may not understand:  When I set a price on something, I already take into consideration the cheap versions of my items out and about in discount stores, mass produced for a pittance by overworked underpaid production workers in China, India, Thailand, or wherever they've come from.  When I set a price for my work, I leave out the time it takes for me to source my materials (hours a month), or to come up with ideas and create prototypes (hours a month and dollars "wasted" on things that will never be sold).  I also leave out the cost of selling online, advertising online, the percentages taken by paypal and Etsy, or Visa, Mastercard, American Express.  I don't charge for the cost of my Market stall each week.  What is left is the actual cost of the materials being used, and what I value my hours of work at.  Generally, I work things out so that I am actually netting about $5 per hour.  FIVE DOLLARS PER HOUR.  Some things I make a little more on, some things a little less.  LESS than $5 per hour.  This is what I get paid to spend time making things for your little one, for your gifts, trinkets, toys...  That is less than half of current minimum wage here in Ontario.  My time away from my children, away from my housework, away from my own leisure time, television time, often even sleep time!!!

I justify this wage because sometimes I can work while doing things with the kids or watching television.  Sometimes. I justify it because I do enjoy it.  I get to create things I want, things you want.  I get to hear praise about my work, suggestions, ideas...I get to see your beautiful little ones...  

But mostly, I just swallow it.  I accept that crafters never make a living wage on their work.
Consider your own job.  Would you work for less than minimum wage?  Would you accept your boss asking you to work extra hours and offering to pay you less to do so?  You are a stay at home mom?  Guess what.  So am I.  This is what I do around my time with my girls.  One with special needs.  Working more for less means less time with my girls...  Less under the tree for my girls this time of year.. Less opportunity to support other crafters with my purchases...

So please.  I ask but one thing.  PLEASE, don't ask me for a discount.  Don't tell me you can get it cheaper somewhere else.  Don't ask for a better price if you buy more than one.  Selling two means exactly twice the work and twice the time.  Selling three, well, you get the idea.  Why should I make less money for doing more work?  Do you?

Sincerely,
a very tired, and slightly overworked,
Me