Gratitude in the Deep Mid Winter

So as my writing has be intermittent (many many excuses to insert here: unanticipated ceiling removal, workamoney, organizing and then avoiding organization system, blah blah blah), but I've been regularly harassed by you, kind readers.  So thank you.

There is something about the end of the year that drives one to buy cards, sign them illegibly and then hope that friends, family and the random folks who receive the misaddressed treasures.  I've fallen for this boon to the US Postal Service, but this year I'm going green (i.e. lazy).  I'm posting my thanks to friends, family and random readers online, but with as much heartfelt gratitude and joy as my scawled cards who strive to communicate.

It has been approximately a year since I was diagnosed with epilepsy.  Ahhh, how time flies when you are having fun and memory lapses.

The general theme of holiday letters is to list accomplishments, humorous stories and updates on kids/cats. (BTW if you post an argument that this is a time for Christmas, Solstice, Hanukkah, or other miscellaneous excuses for skivving off work and snarfing food with family may I gently remind you because I'm an atheist I can take advantage of your random religious days with total hedonism, no guilt and any random description of these end of the year vacation days.)

Since religious tradition and/or guilt doesn't really motivate my recapping of moments of gratitude, there could be an interesting argument that I've increased my sincerity levels.

But all banter and riling you up for inappropriate-for-the-dinner-table religious argument aside--Thank You.

Thank you for asking me about epilepsy.  Your curiosity and listening help me better understand this twitchy adventure.

Thanks for laughing with me at my defective brain even when being blase glossed over fear.

Thanks for holding my hair back when I puked.

Thanks for not making a big deal out of the fact that I peed myself and didn't realize it.

Thanks for checking in to make sure I hadn't been eaten by my cats.

Thanks for answering my questions to the best of your ability.

Thanks for financial support when my drugs cost a third of my salary.

Thanks for trusting my judgment.

Thanks for being patient with my memory loss.

Thanks for respecting my independence.

Thanks for the celebration of accomplishments without describing them as special because they were done "despite having epilepsy."  

Thanks for making me feel normal not damaged.

2008 has tangled happiness and trauma for me.  Mixed emotions, changes in my abilities, and previously unexplored self have been gifts.  Sometimes those gifts are exactly what I wanted and needed; sometimes beneath the wrapping paper they are like an unironic puffy painted bedazzled sweater that you are forced to wear in public.

Thank you for being there for me.  Thank you for the love, patience and unswerving support.  Thank you thank you thank you.

My deepest love,

Emily