Those Days

My grandmother was bipolar. But by the time she died, there were a host of other things wrong with her as well. Some were side effects of her meds, some were from smoking, a complusion she developed as her mental illness got worse. When she died, she wasn't much older than my parents are now. But at least she was out of her misery.

On days like today and yesterday, I worry about becoming just like her. A generally happy state with some horrible days, that's what I tend to do. If I really am like her, the up and down days might even out. Or they might get worse.

As overdramatic as it seems, I do have a higher risk of being depressed or bipolar because of my grandma. Most days I think this theory is nuts. But on the days when suicide comes into my thoughts? Yeah, I can believe it.

I'm hoping all this emotional crap is just teenage angst and hormones. I hope.
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Those days when I'm like this, all the little worries get heightened, and all I can think about is how painful they could turn out. The rational part tells me that my problems are small, and I am extremely fortunate to be where I am in the world, in my family, my house, my city, my country. Yet I still sob for the existance of those problems at night on these days.

"Oh woe is me...oh woe is me..." Weighs out the rational.
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I can't even summon up the needed excitment for Sims 3. It should be a YAY! But it's more of a meh.

Stella

Stella died. Since no one reading this knows who Stella is, I'll explain.

Every year I go to a wonderful, welcoming, amazing second home. Aka, summer camp. My summer camp, Cedar Lodge, is owned by a family, the Edwards. This morning, the matriarch passed on.

Stella is so unique, was, I suppose. Every year, she knew every campers' name, and she'd put forth the effort to spend time with all the staff and campers, even after she had a serious fall a couple years ago. I'd marvel how she still remembered my name the second summer after spending only a week there. She of all people did. When several campers and staff did not. Campers and staff that spent much more time with me than her.

Every Sunday, she was there welcoming the new and returning campers, farewelling the leaving ones.

Every Sunday that I arrived at camp for the past six years, she was a fixture there.

Every Sunday, she was the first face I saw welcoming me back.

Every Sunday I left I missed her.

I only have one grandparent left. Stella was some kind of close replacement for the ones I was missing.

I miss my summer camp, I miss my camp friends, I miss the staff. But all those people and things I'll see again. Stella I won't.

Goodbye Stella. Rest in peace.