"Made it Down the Coast in Seventeen Hours..."

I am sneezing blood and nursing a headache I have had literally four days straight, and have taken enough ibuprofen to turn blood into water.

And I'm really happy. I'm looking at all the photographs my family has taken since I've been away, and I feel so sad that I am missing so much of their lives, especially Maria's--I think she'd hate that, but she's one of my favourite people in the whole world and I wish I could be there to see how gorgeous she looks when she's really happy every time she's really happy. And looking at photographs just isn't the same. But then I think that the important thing is that she's really happy, not whether I find out in the present or in the past. My bitwoded, my brave smart incredibly strong sister is happy. I'm happy too.

And I'm happy when I see the pictures of me that are mixed in from break and things. My cheeks are very rounded and when the sun hits them they get golden around the edges like a peach. I still don't love myself very much and certainly not as much as I should. I judge myself too harshly and about stupid things. When I get frustrated or upset my first thought is still to see how much damage I can physically do to myself. But I know that's wrong. People are working very hard to make sure I know that isn't right.

I'm happy reading my friendslist and seeing how pleased people are, about Christmas, about other things. At least ten people have posted saying they're just generally doing well, talking about things they're excited about and things they'll be doing and it makes me feel really good. It's extremely basic, I think: people you love are happy, you're happy. Maybe not all over, certainly not for-ever, but it feels so good to know that other folks, folks whose happiness you are deeply invested in, are happy.

My aunt told me to-day during the Christmas party that she has had episodes of bipolar since she was in college. All this time, my parents have been saying, "Where did this come from? Nobody in our two families has ever had a mental illness?" and I've been saying, "I guess I'm just the unlucky penny." And Aunt Susie told me it's run in my Daddy's family for years, people just don't talk about it. She has it, she's pretty sure my aunt has it, and she knows about several suicides in my grandpa's family tree. So it's not just me. It's not just me. This didn't just come out of nowhere because I'm weak or bad or something. It's curled up in my genetics, this little curlicue of coding.

My family didn't really do presents this year. I got a couple of leetle sheep plushies from a couple of people, and Maria gave me a new Sigg water bottle since I destroyed mine through stupidity this summer. Aunt Jeanie, who is a bronze sculptor, made me a box with a bronze sheep on the lid. I got some soft socks and a little pottery cup. Most of my gifts were more transient. My parents gave me a train ticket to mhari on the eighth. I got candied orange slices and some mixed nuts (I love mixed nuts so much--I like to go to the grocery when they're sitting out in massive barrels and just run my hands through them because they're all different textures, brazil nuts and hazelnuts and almonds and pecans and walnuts) and I did get a pill thingy, one of those thingies that have the day of the week in them and you put your pill in each day so you remember to take it? because I forget to take my pill a lot, it's a problem I have. And Will, who is taking pottery in school right now, said he wants to make me a bowl. But he isn't finished yet. <3 He is growing up so handsome. Anyway, I only got presents from my mama and daddy and Maria, and then Will and Johanna's family, but I got so many nice things that I really wanted. And I think that's really nice--I mostly just got things I really wanted. Serena, my friend from college, donated a sheep to Heifer Project in my name, which may be the very best thing I got all over.

People give to me so much. This is a warm season, I think: it is very cold, but it is very warm. While we were watching Grey's Anatomy this evening, Johanna and Maria and I squished together on the couch, and Johanna held my hand through the episode. Her hands are at least three shades darker than mine, and freckled, these incredibly beautiful hands, and extraordinarily warm. So that was beautiful.

And Mama loved the vase I got her, which I think is nicest. Juniata has a pottery club called Mud Junkies and I bought a green vase with a glaze that looks like ice blossoming, or dandelion tufts if you draw them in pen and ink, and she told me it was beautiful.

So I guess the point is I think all that eclipses the fact that I am still sick, and still fat, and extremely tired. I'm not what matters. What matters is that everyone around me is full of love and warmth and beauty, and I love them so much. I love all of them so much.

And I'm happy.