About a Fly

Ladies, Gentlemen, all those in-between and the none-at-alls,

      There are times in which you'll have to hear me out on certain things because they'll, at first, seem bizarre or inane. This is one of those times. I'm going to be drawing comparisons you'll most likely find ridiculous, then again, you may also find them humorous... the ball is really in your court.

      On my way home from work, not long after writing my first blog post in fact, I spotted a little greenfly on the inside of the tram window. There it was, right next to me, making futile efforts to pass a seemingly invisible wall to escape to its rightful place outside. Me being me, I began to feel sorry Frank (he has a name now), managing to draw some obscure sense of empathy for him. His battle resonated with me, feeling his frustration as he battered against a mysterious wall- not visible, but felt. I watched as Frank scaled his battlefield, climbing up, attempting to fly through, then being knocked back down to restart his endeavour once more. I watched as this process was repeated over, and over, and over, and over until he fell all the way down to the gap between the window and the ledge. This bothered me. Not only had he seemingly given up, stood leg-locked in a dark place, probably wondering how on Earth he would successfully encounter this issue in his lonely and condemned state, but now I had to somehow help him out of there so I could get him outside! He literally didn't move from that space for the rest of my journey. It was exactly as though he'd given up, something I wasn't going to allow to happen: don't worry, Frank, I thought, I'll help you when I get off the tram. Then I did! I quite literally saved a greenfly because I felt I was able to relate to his struggle (as well as my overbearing sense of respect for life, big or small, of course). Judge me as you will, but I'd have felt guilty for a long time had I not saved him!

      If you weren't already able to notice the parallels between our friend, his wall, and mental illness, allow me to enlighten you: The fly is you, outside is your eventual goal, and the window is the mental block you put in place to stop yourself (I know we don't knowingly put them in place, but your brain is you, yada yada, you get the drift). In a fly, I saw determination, motivation, exasperation, then nothing. I saw self-defeatism. I saw loss of purpose. I saw myself. Throughout my years of internal struggle, I've battled against an unconquerable wall so erected by myself. It hadn't really occurred to me until recently, but only I know the weaknesses to this wall- only I can be the wooden horse, pregnant with an army to take down my enemy, probing it's walls to find the darkness to be vanquished inside. However, just like Frank, I couldn't do it alone. I needed an outsider to read my reports (that's you), a benevolent officer to hear of my reconnaissance on the enemy within (my trusted few) and, finally, the stability to carry out my mission (that's me). Do not go headstrong into this with the belief that you can go it alone; war is a time in which we should make friends, connections and enforce trusty support systems to enable success. A war is never fought unaided. Don't allow yourself to fall into a solitary, dark place, only to be scooped up by a sorry onlooker's monthly tram pass. Pick yourself up, cast away whatever thoughts that isolate you and ask for a friend; you'll be surprised by the response you get.


P.S. I realise many oppose the view that we are our illness, referring to my "yada yada" bracket. Many would say, "when you have a cold, you're not a cold!" which is true. But for something as complex as mental illness- something so hardwired into the workings of your brain, for all intents and purposes, is you. It affects your behaviours, your behaviours create your character. When we change these behaviours, we're changing ourselves. I find that accepting your mental illness as part of you enables you to fight it in a much more efficient manner because "nobody knows you better than you, right?" I found treating it as some form of viral invader put me at a distance from my illness, yet everyone knows the best way to work with something is the get up-close and personal. However, don't take this as fact, this is just my opinion.