cothurnus: For most of the time. (Default)
I was going to save this post until later in the week, but, given that I had a little bit of a breakdown last night, I thought it fitting that I post this now. You’ll see why:

I know I’ve spent a good while talking about how I feel when it comes to a certain couple of arrancar, but I have only touched upon my feelings for the series’ protagonist. This isn’t because I don’t like him, or, even necessarily because I prefer Ulquiorra and Grimmjow as characters. It’s just that my thoughts about Ichigo were always kind of nebulous up to this point. I mean, he is a nebulous character – and, that’s good. It’s in the nature of a protagonist whom you have forever to develop in numerous ways that their essence will be hard to pin down to a specific speech or specific fight. However, what’s changed is that certain events before and during the short-lived fullbringer storyline and now in the more recent episodes which have helped me to crystallise my thoughts.

So, to sum up my attitude towards Ichigo, frankly I will say that, most of the time I find him to be a guilt-free emotional focus for the story, through which I can live vicariously. But, sometimes, I find him to be a real inspiration. Because, while he spends most of the story so far super-powered and steadfast, he is not always so, and the way that Ichigo is presented in these instances, to me, really shows how talented Tite Kubo is.

The examples which come to mind are Ichigo’s funk after his inner hollow prevents him from being able to fight Ulquiorra and Yammy, and most potently, what happens after Ginjou steals his newfound fullbring powers. I suppose I also might like to talk about the nuances of his feelings after losing his shinigami powers to the Final Getsuga Tenshou in relation to these things, but, in the interests of keeping this post short and pertinent, I think I’ll give that stuff its own post sometime.

I’ve already talked quite a bit in previous posts about the first of these, and I don’t want to repeat myself. But, I will say that what Ichigo’s depression and fear taught me was that it is natural for even the bravest of us to feel these emotions when we fail or face something unknown. I know I’ve already said as much in a previous post, but I think I should acknowledge it specifically with regards to my current situation.

As I have said, last night, I lost my composure. My arm was in severe pain, I was terribly cold, tired to the point of delirium and all I could see ahead of me were the uncertain weeks when I would still be confined to this hospital room. In that moment, I identified strongly with the Ichigo that would scream his heart out on a rain-spattered rooftop and even plead to have his powers returned. Indeed, therein lies some of the skill of Tite Kubo: Ichigo's depressions are always so relatable.



But, even as I cried, I thought about the Bleach page which is my current desktop wallpaper (below), and I thought that Ichigo Kurosaki also showed me that even the bravest of us sometimes need those close to us. If even Ichigo needs to ask for help, I felt, I shouldn’t be ashamed to do so.



And all of those arrayed shinigami who lent their power to him reminded me of all the friends who are helping me everyday to overcome this. Of course, it also helped with the comparison that Rukia’s words could have been directed at me personally, as I have “come through much worse despair”.

However, even as I felt overwhelming gratitude for what my friends did for me, the little voice of doubt in my head, which creeps up on me in these moments in a manner not wholly unlike the way Ichigo’s inner hollow taunts him, started. It said, “You’re not like Ichigo. Because, every time he pulls himself together, it’s for the good of others. You are only trying to save yourself.” And you know what I did with that voice before it could continue? I told it to fuck off. Out loud. And it stopped. It took me some time to realise this, but the reason I was able to do this difficult thing was also partly down to Ichigo. I can think of two instances where he dismisses arguments against his determined course. Firstly, when he tells Ulquiorra that the difference in their power doesn’t matter, and later, when Ginjou tries to turn him against the shinigami establishment. Similarly, I realised that it doesn’t matter that I’m accepting all this help and fighting as hard as I can to get better with little sign of a righteous end. Do you know why? It’s because I realised that I would do the same for any one of my friends – and it wouldn’t have anything to do with duty or hope of gain. I would do it because it is what I believe and because I love them.

This, once and for all, proved to myself that I have the potential to be like Ichigo, that I can mirror his resolve. I just hope that I’m not the only one who can derive this comfort from Bleach, because I know I’m not the only one who needs it.

P.S. I'm going to have to leave this blog for a little while, as, yup, I now can't use my right hand to type. (I could only upload this because I'd written a good portion before last night. However, some urgency has been taken out of the equation, as I definitely won't be having surgery until at least the middle of next week.
cothurnus: "I have an arm?????" (Grimmjow)
Yes, I did just quote Ulquiorra. Did I mention that I like him? But, all of that aside, I just wanted to say that true despair does not look like Ulqiorra's 'Segunda Etapa resurrecion'. Or, if it does, it looks like many other things too, like a hospital bed after three months of illness.

Oooooh my God, mere weeks after walking away from life-saving surgery, expecting to be able to resume normal life, I'm back hospitalised, albeit, this time near university. But, I swear, that, on the day that I came into hospital (last Wednesday), was on nil-by-mouth for a day, was in pain all day, had a painfully failed CSF tap (read, 'needle inserted into head to draw fluid') and was told around 9pm that I was going to have to stay in, I literally freaked out. I just burst into tears, saying, 'The only thing that got me through the last illness was the belief that I would have my life back at the end of it.' I knew that I was being selfish. Someone, at one point, tried to calm me down by saying that other people had it worse. This did not help. Because, as much as I accept that there are people who have it worse, the only experience which I had at that time was mine, and, in that moment, my mind grappled with the sheer existential terror of everything I'd ever hoped for in my life possibly being torn from me. I had no idea what was wrong with me, and, for all I knew, I would never live a normal life again. I would be constantly bed-bound and would be fed regular drugs for the rest of my no-doubt foreshortened-due-to-lack of exercise life. Call this hysterical, but to the people who do, I contest that our sense of self could well be called an extra organ. It is SO necessary to our lives. And, the person who I am, to me, has always been a fighter. Every morning in the latter half of the seemingly endless two months of my last illness, no matter how depressed I felt, I woke up and said to myself, '3...2...1...FIGHT!' But, last Wednesday, that part of myself went AWOL and the related part of my sense of self crumbled. I did all kinds of things which I never used to: I took painkillers which I could have managed without and I flinched at needles. I hated the person I had become.

But, if there is a God, then He has saved me somehow. He put a song in my head, and it's the one that I mention below this post. Mulan was always an inspiration to me as a child, embryonic feminist that I was. (And, before it’s pointed out, I understand the massive irony of the song: that its supposed to juxtapose unironic endorsement of traditionally masculine traits with a context and story which shows how flawed our understanding of those traits is if we see them in exclusively gendered terms. I get that. It doesn’t make the song any less bad-ass, though. Or any less inspiring when, if you’ve seen the film, in your mind’s eye you’re seeing the heroine reach the top of that pole like a boss after being written off.)

Stories like that one, and Bug's Life shaped my moral development. They taught me my baby’s first lessons on how to be a fighter. That song in my head brought me back to my true self. Suddenly, I could take any amount of pain. I suddenly realised that my mind was the sovereign of my body. And so, I got up and I marched, five times the length of my hospital cubicle, before stretching up on my toes seven times. This hurt like hell. But I could fight it, and right now, I feel like I can fight anything.

And this has taught me that, no matter how depressed I feel, how apathetic, how afraid, I am NOT a coward. What I am is the King of my existence. Every illness that I have, no matter how much I may at first succumb, I will fight it.

Now, I want to end by posting a video which has also partially inspired this line of thinking. The clip is from the film, Persepolis (if you haven't seen that film - fix that! This clip is more inspirational when you know that Marjane has lived every word), which also makes fighting a metaphor for life:

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cothurnus: For most of the time. (Default)
Ashleigh

November 2012

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