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polychromatic) wrote2019-10-23 09:19 pm
polychromatic) wrote2019-10-23 09:19 pm
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I have loved Eeyore for a long time.
Like the famous Mr. Darcy, I can't recall the exact moment it started but "I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." I had a few "WInnie the Pooh" books as a child and grew up completely under the thrall of Disney, so the inhabitants of the 100 Acre Woods have been part of my life for as long as I remember. I can say for certain that I was earnestly fond of him in my preteen years and (probably rightfully) gained a reputation among friends about being a bit of an Eeyore afficionado from there. People have asked why, and I'm not sure that I've ever been able to pinpoint it.
"He's just so cute!" I would say, not sure how to verbalize that rush of real affection I would feel when I saw a particularly great representation of Eeyore, whether as a cup, a plush animal, a figurine, etc. It's the kind of emotion one feels when faced with tiny kittens or puppies, that squeezing of your heart when you want to love and protect something. I have amassed a small but significant collection of Eeyore items over the years, some that I purchased myself and others being gifts from various friends and family. It reached a point where I had to beg people to stop buying me Eeyore items and was forced to aggressively curate what I had to a more manageable - and meaningful - size.
Of course, much has been made over the years about what your favourite Winnie-the-Pooh character may say about you as a person. I never put much stock into that because Eeyore was a melancholy figure, and that was never a word that I associated with myself. My love for Eeyore was something I felt was a constant in my life, yes, but in the same superficial way that I love mangoes and the colour blue. Eeyore was always something that brought me back to feeling like a child again, when life was less complicated and more carefree. I nearly cried when the Eeyore mascot was out and about at Disneyland as a 21 year-old, knowing full-well that it was an adult in costume. It didn't matter; being able to interact with Eeyore and take a picture with him meant something to me. I begrudge the Disney Company a lot of things, but the magic and joy that their theme parks inspire is not one of them.
I laughingly tell people that the only reason I bothered to seek out the art museum during my 48 hours in Boston was because of the Winnie-the-Pooh exhibit they had on. Instead of posting pictures of the beautiful sights of that city, I waxed poetic about a very sweet Eeyore-centered greeting card I had found in a retail pharmacy store. My friends "ambushed" me in LA with a fairly big Eeyore-plush that I had to wrestle into my carry-on suitcase. I was "that Eeyore-friend" who had a quirky obsession with a childhood character.
Then these past few months hit.
To be clear, this is not my first foray into a state of desolation. Like so many people, I had my share of growing pains through my adolescence. I spent most of my first and last years in high school in a state of misery, and in my second year of university the stress from studies and my friend-group's specific social situation drove me to pinching myself to the point of bruising for some kind of release. A sudden break-up in my second year of veterinary school landed me in a sleepless state of distress, so much so that my family flew me home for two weeks during our short "winter" break. My first year of being a veterinarian saw me in a general state of despondence from the overwhelming pressure I felt.
This feels different though. In those other situations, there was a specific cause for my emotional state. These were things that would either be resolved with action or time. Of course, an argument could be made that I am still wrestling with some level of grief, but I'm not sure. It does feel like if it hadn't been for this confluence of events, I may have moved on like always. But they did happen and I feel... broken. Like I'm not sure what action can fix this or if time will have an effect. What if this new state of sadness is just who I am now?
I look at Eeyore now, and I see myself reflected back. I see a creature who isolates himself, who doesn't expect anyone to notice or care about him, who maybe isn't worth being noticed or cared about, and is resigned to his reality. He'll join in on the fun or gatherings when invited, and he hopes for but simultaneously never expects the invitation in the first place. He wants to be loved, but also rebuffs it because he doesn't trust it. And sometimes his friends don't come through, but sometimes they do.
Here's the thing - I love Eeyore. I've loved him for so long, not seeing any kind of connection. So maybe if I can love Eeyore as much as I do, I can forgive myself for sharing some of his depressive and pessimistic traits, right? Besides, he's not all doom and gloom and neither am I. He has his moments of sweetness and insight.
I suppose only time will tell.
Like the famous Mr. Darcy, I can't recall the exact moment it started but "I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." I had a few "WInnie the Pooh" books as a child and grew up completely under the thrall of Disney, so the inhabitants of the 100 Acre Woods have been part of my life for as long as I remember. I can say for certain that I was earnestly fond of him in my preteen years and (probably rightfully) gained a reputation among friends about being a bit of an Eeyore afficionado from there. People have asked why, and I'm not sure that I've ever been able to pinpoint it.
"He's just so cute!" I would say, not sure how to verbalize that rush of real affection I would feel when I saw a particularly great representation of Eeyore, whether as a cup, a plush animal, a figurine, etc. It's the kind of emotion one feels when faced with tiny kittens or puppies, that squeezing of your heart when you want to love and protect something. I have amassed a small but significant collection of Eeyore items over the years, some that I purchased myself and others being gifts from various friends and family. It reached a point where I had to beg people to stop buying me Eeyore items and was forced to aggressively curate what I had to a more manageable - and meaningful - size.
Of course, much has been made over the years about what your favourite Winnie-the-Pooh character may say about you as a person. I never put much stock into that because Eeyore was a melancholy figure, and that was never a word that I associated with myself. My love for Eeyore was something I felt was a constant in my life, yes, but in the same superficial way that I love mangoes and the colour blue. Eeyore was always something that brought me back to feeling like a child again, when life was less complicated and more carefree. I nearly cried when the Eeyore mascot was out and about at Disneyland as a 21 year-old, knowing full-well that it was an adult in costume. It didn't matter; being able to interact with Eeyore and take a picture with him meant something to me. I begrudge the Disney Company a lot of things, but the magic and joy that their theme parks inspire is not one of them.
I laughingly tell people that the only reason I bothered to seek out the art museum during my 48 hours in Boston was because of the Winnie-the-Pooh exhibit they had on. Instead of posting pictures of the beautiful sights of that city, I waxed poetic about a very sweet Eeyore-centered greeting card I had found in a retail pharmacy store. My friends "ambushed" me in LA with a fairly big Eeyore-plush that I had to wrestle into my carry-on suitcase. I was "that Eeyore-friend" who had a quirky obsession with a childhood character.
Then these past few months hit.
To be clear, this is not my first foray into a state of desolation. Like so many people, I had my share of growing pains through my adolescence. I spent most of my first and last years in high school in a state of misery, and in my second year of university the stress from studies and my friend-group's specific social situation drove me to pinching myself to the point of bruising for some kind of release. A sudden break-up in my second year of veterinary school landed me in a sleepless state of distress, so much so that my family flew me home for two weeks during our short "winter" break. My first year of being a veterinarian saw me in a general state of despondence from the overwhelming pressure I felt.
This feels different though. In those other situations, there was a specific cause for my emotional state. These were things that would either be resolved with action or time. Of course, an argument could be made that I am still wrestling with some level of grief, but I'm not sure. It does feel like if it hadn't been for this confluence of events, I may have moved on like always. But they did happen and I feel... broken. Like I'm not sure what action can fix this or if time will have an effect. What if this new state of sadness is just who I am now?
I look at Eeyore now, and I see myself reflected back. I see a creature who isolates himself, who doesn't expect anyone to notice or care about him, who maybe isn't worth being noticed or cared about, and is resigned to his reality. He'll join in on the fun or gatherings when invited, and he hopes for but simultaneously never expects the invitation in the first place. He wants to be loved, but also rebuffs it because he doesn't trust it. And sometimes his friends don't come through, but sometimes they do.
Here's the thing - I love Eeyore. I've loved him for so long, not seeing any kind of connection. So maybe if I can love Eeyore as much as I do, I can forgive myself for sharing some of his depressive and pessimistic traits, right? Besides, he's not all doom and gloom and neither am I. He has his moments of sweetness and insight.
I suppose only time will tell.