I learned during the year that people felt obligated to be nice to me (and, indeed, they wanted to be nice) because of the trials which I endured. Since they were human, however, their jealousies and stored grievances would sometimes appear in a choice moment wherein their self-control was at a low ebb. I believe that everyone, including those having well-aligned values, possess a foremost problem which, despite even the greatest amenities of good health and even a loving home, can exist within the minds of the most fortunate individuals; indeed, some people are ashamed of their "problems" since they appear so insignificant when compared to those in other lives. Nevertheless, the problem lives within them and causes real emotional duress.
Returning to my observation, I realized that people who, within themselves, felt that my problems were essentially greater than theirs, still needed to air those complaints. Feeling hindered by me, to a certain extent, their frustrations would sometimes be directed at me while their true source of anger remained unspoken. Such was the case with my sister. Following the small episode, I was less enthusiastic about revealing my catalog reveries, yet I recovered fully, losing a goodly spirit and gaining a fine sister.
It seems everyone likes to receive mail, especially when the mail carrier leaves a bundle composed of more interesting things than just bills. My love for mail grew into an obsession while I stayed home, and many days found me impatiently glued to the window, glaring up the avenue when a substitute carrier delayed the hour of delivery. Worse, however, than waiting for the mail carrier was when the mail arrived having nothing addressed, or of interest, to me; I was not picky… I welcomed even "junk mail"!
Jan. 31, 1976… I woke up again, which is a miracle in itself (followed by a dissertation explaining my plans for the day).
I was aware of the implications behind my sickness, yet I do not recall having believed that I would die; my pain was of the temporary kind, I thought, and having confidence in my elders and those of the medical profession, felt certain that my life was not threatened. Death itself was obscurity, and only took on the characteristics of ultimate slumber and freedom from pain; this image brought no fear and occurred mainly in times of physical discomfort. I wished neither to delude myself about my condition nor dwell upon its negative features; my statement from the diary illustrates that attitude quite well, for, although the sentence was written in light-hearted jest, its dry humor depended, as do all jokes, on either an element of truth, an attempt to mask seriousness, or sheer incredibility. As the latter was not a factor, my expression was a truthful and simultaneous outburst, defining my life in a concise and unobtrusive manner; I was not depressed that day, but rather, honest in a wry sort of way.
Humor is an asset when one is faced with serious problems, for laughter unleashes tension, like crying, which otherwise can become self-destructive. Laughter and tears are closely related, as is evident in cases of hysteria or other mental disorders wherein the mind no longer effectively controls one's emotions in the manner which society deems proper for a particular occasion. Mom once related an incident concerning Lynn, who from birth, was severely cerebral palsied; strapped in her high chair, she watched Mom cry over distressing news and in response, began to laugh, bespeaking her inability to react by shedding tears, as would a normal child. Generally, sadness evokes sadness.
There are times, however, when grim situations accompanied by humor should not be looked upon as a "sick" reaction. I truly believe that one can find humor in most occurrences, even some of the brutal realities of life and death. Ideally one should find the utmost humor within his own life… he need not search elsewhere; to laugh at one's own problems divides their weight significantly, so that it is unnecessary to scoff at another's ill fortune and place humorless weight upon his ample burden.
Laughter was not only for myself, however, for I had to maintain a degree of humor regarding both my appearance and my general situation, spanning isolation to body dysfunctions, to retain my normalcy in the eyes of those around me. Laughter makes an unpleasant event more acceptable despite its inherent distastefulness; even my wig afforded certain individuals with unbridled laughter when I would put it on backwards and, playing a mock guitar, pretend to be a member of a rock band. Had my reaction to adversity brought a shadow of gloom over my face and personality the suffering endured by my family and friends would have been greatly multiplied; as a result, my isolation would have grown. Depression is as catching as humor, yet unlike humor, it is not sought and possesses no magnetism of itself.
Feb. 1, 1976… I got sick in the night last night. I was real cold, then really super hot. I started to make little whines, hoping Mom or Dad would hear me. Finally, Mom heard me and Dad came to see what was the matter. He helped me get situated on the sofa. I slept all the rest of the (next) day. I can't remember if I even ate today at all. All I know is that I'm having super weird dreams all of the day.
When my mom began to teach, I remember my jealousy toward the faceless names which daily she brought home. Conversation I did not mind, yet her employment involved much more than that. She sometimes came home quite late, and even after working over-time at school she managed to tote further work to our house. If she asked for help, I would do so begrudgingly, knowing that the time she saved by my assistance would only spawn other ideas from her conscientiousness. When I no longer wanted a stuffed animal or toy, she quickly rushed it to school; this was a true blow, for the kindergarteners were not only benefiting from her time at school and at home, but were now receiving my old and once-beloved belongings! My displeasure voiced itself in a cantankerous fashion as I stewed my over-all annoyance for small children's propensities (irrationality, brazen and loud mouths, uncouth mannerisms, and their tendency toward the profuse utilization of tears) under her nose.