I realize that I've been quiet lately in the light of the events that covered the Star Wars fan blogs, news channels, and internet sites at the tail end of 2016. I'm not even sure I've adequately discussed my thoughts out-loud regarding these events because my voice stops or my brain stops or my heart just says, "Not yet." Even as I'm going back and rereading this (because I've been trying to draft this post for over a month now), I don't think I've really said exactly what I felt or thought. I know, however, that eventually I'll have to say something. I'll want to say something. So I wanted to see if I could draft out my idea so that it might eventually become full-fledged words on the screen. This is that draft, along with some edits, and probably a few more additions before I actually hit "publish".
We lost Carrie Fisher unexpectedly on Tuesday, December 27, 2016. This came shortly after the news that she had experienced a "cardiac incident" while in-flight from London to Los Angeles the previous Friday. We didn't expect this. We heard "stable", and we all had hope. But that hope was obliterated when we saw the headlines on Tuesday. Almost as though life wanted to add insult to injury, the very next day we saw the headline that we had lost Carrie's mother, Debbie Reynolds. One day after her daughter.
My introduction to Carrie came through Star Wars, and over the years, I've been lucky enough to listen to her speak at a few fan conventions including Star Wars Celebrations. Let's face it - so many of us met this leading lady of sci-fi fantasy the same way. We fell in love with her through her portrayal of Princess Leia. Her spunk, her wit, and her charm filled the screen. Leia was determined, strong-willed, and unwavering. She was a true hero in the Star Wars saga.
Carrie Fisher herself was a true hero to a lot of causes. Despite her difficulties with drugs and alcohol throughout her past, she was honest about her addictions, her bipolar disorder, and her depression. She shared these things with people as a form of education to let people know they were not alone in their struggles. She was sharp-witted, had a wicked sense of humor, and was full of life on the stage. And through it all, her honesty and genuine heart shown through.
I am nothing like Carrie Fisher. I am not a risk-taker. I have never been addicted to drugs or alcohol. I have never had bipolar disorder. My sense of humor is less risqué. I am not as brutally honest. She is so unlike who I am at times that it's probably hard for some people to understand why I am so upset by her passing.
However, I think the reason I am so upset is because - despite the fact that I am none of these things - I looked up to her and who she was. A part of me wanted to be like that. I looked up to how honest and forthright she was about everything in life. Carrie Fisher was who she was, and she never apologized for it. That was just how it was going to be. You couldn't change it, and you didn't want to. That must be amazingly freeing - to realize that you are who you are and people shouldn't be allowed to judge us because of who we are. I wish we could all feel that freedom.
Carrie spoke out for those suffering with bipolar disorder, depression, and all mental illnesses in order to educate others. She spoke out to help those who were suffering realize they were not alone in their struggles and they were not abnormal because of them. This specifically resonated with me - having dealt personally with two particularly difficult psychological diagnoses over the years. Hearing her speak about it in person - to hear her reach out to a crowd, to those who might be hurting or to those who might not understand - brought me to tears one time at a convention in Indianapolis. (She explained to a child in the audience what "bipolar" meant after he had asked her a question during the Q&A.) I will never forget that feeling. It was a complete sense of validation in your hurt coupled with the promise of strength to overcome all of it. She helped instill that through words alone. That's amazing.
It's been a tough time for a lot of people. The world has seemed dark and ugly, and I think a lot of us were just pulling to make it through
2016. Then more stuff happened, and some people just kept thinking that
the turning of a number on the calendar of life would make it better.
But a number is a number - it doesn't change anything except what we make it
change. We are the people who make a difference - even in the
darkness, we can still be a beacon of hope.
Even if it's a tiny hope.
Even if it's someone's only hope.
Thank you, Carrie Fisher, for all that you were and all that you always will be - to so many. May the Force be with you always.
