satyapriya

FIRST WE MAKE THE BEAST BEAUTIFUL - SARAH WILSON
p. 115-6

When I was four, before starting school, I'd watch that kids' show with the puppet Mr Squiggle, the 'man from the moon', who'd come visit each afternoon from one of his space walks. I'd sit with my brother Ben in front of the telly with an orange plastic cup of sultanas and peanuts and we'd wait for him to come on. I'd make 'sultana burgers', squishing the dried fruit between two halves of a peanut, and nibble them slowly.
Strung up and jangly, Mr Squiggle emerged from his tin spacecraft and would transform scribbles provided by viewers at home into funny pictures with his pencil nose.
There was also Miss Jane, who was a real life human and forever patient and calm in the face of Mr Squiggle's nervous antics. Mostly Miss Jane was there to gently pull Mr Squiggle into line.
'Miss Jane, Miss Jane, hold my hand!' Midway through one of his drawings Mr Squiggle would get too excited for this world and start to float off into space. 'Spacewalk time, Miss Jane, spacewalk time!' he'd say with the urgency of a little boy needing the toilet.
To my five year old mind, Miss Jane was a warm doona that envelopes you when you're home sick from school on a wet day. She'd never roll her eyes or get exasperated. She'd just gently reach up as Mr Squiggle jangled out of shot, and grasp his little puppet ankle, pulling him back down to earth.
'Sorry, Miss Jane. Thank you, Miss Jane,' he'd murmur. 'What would I do without you, Miss Jane?'
It strikes me how much I would love to have a Miss Jane in my life. A good deal of my frenetic A-type female friends who are always running out the door with several handbags and multiple to-do lists have partnered with Miss Janes - rock-solid, unflappable men who call out from the couch, 'I'll just be here when you get home'. They complement each other wonderfully. The kite and the kite holder.
But when you've got a mood disorder it's often different. This is the hoary deal - when you have a mood disorder, few people are heavy enough and patient enough to anchor your ups and downs. And if you're high-functioning in your anxiety, there are not many men (or women) out there who will actually take the kite string off you in the first place. And I do wonder if it's grossly unfair to ever expect them to be able to. I've often expected this of my partners. The expectation was too high for both of us, with all of them.
If you're truly going to live fully and honestly you have to learn to be your own Miss Jane to your jumpy Mr Squiggle. That's just the deal.

*****

Thank all the gods (Kuan Yin, Goddess of Mercy and Compassion, in particular) that PizzaBoy came along, and is heavy, stable, unflappable, and the rock my family needed. With TwentiesGirl and I being nervous nellies, and TwentiesPerson being our resident fairy princess warrior, we needed a rock to build our castles upon.
PizzaBoy gives me the space to learn to manage my depression, and anxiety, and self-doubt, while keeping a careful eye on matters. If I start to eye up the sleeping pills, or am over-committing, I'm learning to see the signals and tell him.
It's a super-heavy responsibility he's taken on, but he seems to think I'm worth keeping semi-sane, and in the world.
I'm glad.