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I wanted to grow up to be a knight.
Stop me if you've heard this one before. Before I continue, I suggest you read that post if you haven't. It deals with the need for good role models, especially queer ones, super especially for kids. However, today I'll be exploring the other side of this; what happens when you see someone who reflects you a bit too hard. Not a role model as in someone you strive to never be, but a mirror showing you at your worst.
It also deals with my own self-loathing and depression, my own flaws. But as I glorify heroes, so I should also count our flaws. Fiction is powerful; undeniably so. Sometimes, though, the marks it carves in us bleed like wounds and heal up poorly, leaving but an ugly scar on us.
This is a deeply personal, depressive post talking about self-harm, anger, rages, and other possibly triggering material. Also contains some spoilers for Puella Magi Madoka Magica.
Let's expose my wounds.
Is this pain too much for me?
Can I stay the same?
When this pain consumes my heart
Will I be able to hold on to my soul?
I wanted to grow up to be a knight. I knew all this would entail; bloody breastplates, sword stabs, dragons slain, honor upheld, damsels saved, maidens wooed, steeds rode, banners raised, treasures won, gods gifted, and chivalry unbridled.
It could also very well mean my head on a pike, be it from wooing the wrong woman and getting caught or slain in the glory of battle to save my liege and land. It'd mean enduring training, suffering humiliation, never being the one fully in charge, seen as a bully and warmonger by some. But I never put much stock in it. I was going to be the best fucking knight in all the lands, at least a modern day version of one.
I should have paid more attention to the consequences. Even the strongest of swordsmen in fiction are haunted by personal issues and change only after accepting hard truths. They showed me how to be strong, but I didn't heed their warnings. I was young and naive, and if my track record is any indication, I still am. Less so, but it persists.
I should have listened. I should have fucking listened.
Things would go dark. Something in my mind would spark. I saw blood. My eyes and mind became unfocused and my body would burn and ache in every inch of my flesh. Stop it. STOP IT! Get your cruel grip off of me, knave. Stop wringing my neck. I'm a knight and I will cut you down. People are relying on me. I can't die yet.
Oh who am I kidding. I can't protect anyone. I'm weak. I'm worthless. Don't pity or love me, I am a disgusting fool! You'll all wind up dead by my hands, be it through an accident or my inability to stop a threat. Or stop myself. Yet all the same, I am owed. None of you assholes appreciated me to begin with! I AM A FUCKING HERO, DO YOU HEAR ME? HAIL ME! GIFT ME WITH YOUR MONEY AND YOUR BODIES TO USE AS I PLEASE OR I WILL RAZE THIS TOWN! I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DISRESPECT YOUR SAVIOR!
And so I'd scream and thrash, hurting those closest to me, but most of all hurting myself. Fingers raked down my arms, crying, I had only myself and my ego to blame. Love hurt me the most, I craved punishment and death and hatred and anger. I wanted conflict. But I would still be forgiven, no matter how huge my sins, for people loved me, and that was somehow the best pain of them all.
I just described one of two people; Sayaka Miki from Puella Magi Madoka Magica or myself.
When I watched Madoka, I was so blind to my own faults and rages that I didn't see the fact that when I walked by a mirror, Sayaka with blood running down her face looked back. It was only after my girlfriend pointed it out did I look back and realize just how right she was. Shit. Shit shit shit. How stupid could I be? Just how blind and dense was I? They say justice is blind but I didn't think they meant to this extant.
Sayaka is the ideals of knights and honor given form and then twisted into the most horrible end possible. Our egos overrun and our need to be recognized as heroes and get our dues twists us into raging demons who wind up cutting those close to us and then slicing ourselves to ribbons. We only find redemption in death after we come to and let the guilt from our crimes overwhelm us.
The only difference between her and I is I'm not dead.
Role models are wonderful people. Fiction and words and pictures are powerful tools. Having to see an idealized version of myself crash and burn so hard was difficult, to say the least. Sometimes it hits way too close to home and we have to pause and re-evaluate ourselves. I saw how Sayaka wound up and swore I had to overcome that. If it weren't for her story and similar ones, I wouldn't be anywhere close to admitting such faults or the fact rage and depression overtake me so violently and make me into someone I wish I could say I never was.
I'm still cleaning up the damage I've done in my past during these fits. I'm still remodeling myself so I don't fall as hard as she did. Sayaka is a role model to me, but not in the way someone like Celes or Agrias are to me. She is there to remind me that I, too, can falter and that nobody is perfect. She is what I cannot be.
If I don't try to not be her, I will lose everything I hold dear. Forever. And the worst part will be living forever with the fact I only brought it upon myself out of the need to try to force people to pity me.
The knave holding us by our necks and calling us worthless is no demons, no dark knight and no villain. It is ourselves. Our depression holding us and beating us down, throwing us to the wall. The only one who has ever been able to thoroughly defeat me is myself.
I need to be reminded of this, though. It's painful, but with time I've come to start to accept it and be the person I set out to be originally. Only by confronting our darker parts can we ever hope to achieve mastery of ourselves. Sometimes, though, it takes a fantastical, over the top example to grind these lessons into us. So I thank my stories and the words and ideas of others, no matter what form of media and fiction it takes, for helping me along the way, no matter how hard it's been.
Kindness is something I don't want or need
The sunshine would just dissolve me into light
Give me a pain as pleasing as your sigh
So I can feel you all the day and night
And keep me from fading away...
Someday. Someday I'll be the knight I claim I am. But only after I defeat my greatest foe and show her mercy and love unbridled can I obtain such a title. Until that foe can accept love and kindness in place of lashings and bloodshed, I will have to do everything I can to keep myself from utterly destructing.
Until I defeat myself.
I just can't lose hope. Not now, not ever. No matter how tempting.
Too many rely on me. I'll become the role model for them in the same way these people are for me. For my sake, and theirs as well I shall fight.
My sword is yours.
Lyrics in italics from 'Pain' by Joanne Hogg and Yasunori Mitsuda from Xenosaga Episode I
Stop me if you've heard this one before. Before I continue, I suggest you read that post if you haven't. It deals with the need for good role models, especially queer ones, super especially for kids. However, today I'll be exploring the other side of this; what happens when you see someone who reflects you a bit too hard. Not a role model as in someone you strive to never be, but a mirror showing you at your worst.
It also deals with my own self-loathing and depression, my own flaws. But as I glorify heroes, so I should also count our flaws. Fiction is powerful; undeniably so. Sometimes, though, the marks it carves in us bleed like wounds and heal up poorly, leaving but an ugly scar on us.
This is a deeply personal, depressive post talking about self-harm, anger, rages, and other possibly triggering material. Also contains some spoilers for Puella Magi Madoka Magica.
Let's expose my wounds.
Is this pain too much for me?
Can I stay the same?
When this pain consumes my heart
Will I be able to hold on to my soul?
I wanted to grow up to be a knight. I knew all this would entail; bloody breastplates, sword stabs, dragons slain, honor upheld, damsels saved, maidens wooed, steeds rode, banners raised, treasures won, gods gifted, and chivalry unbridled.
It could also very well mean my head on a pike, be it from wooing the wrong woman and getting caught or slain in the glory of battle to save my liege and land. It'd mean enduring training, suffering humiliation, never being the one fully in charge, seen as a bully and warmonger by some. But I never put much stock in it. I was going to be the best fucking knight in all the lands, at least a modern day version of one.
I should have paid more attention to the consequences. Even the strongest of swordsmen in fiction are haunted by personal issues and change only after accepting hard truths. They showed me how to be strong, but I didn't heed their warnings. I was young and naive, and if my track record is any indication, I still am. Less so, but it persists.
I should have listened. I should have fucking listened.
Things would go dark. Something in my mind would spark. I saw blood. My eyes and mind became unfocused and my body would burn and ache in every inch of my flesh. Stop it. STOP IT! Get your cruel grip off of me, knave. Stop wringing my neck. I'm a knight and I will cut you down. People are relying on me. I can't die yet.
Oh who am I kidding. I can't protect anyone. I'm weak. I'm worthless. Don't pity or love me, I am a disgusting fool! You'll all wind up dead by my hands, be it through an accident or my inability to stop a threat. Or stop myself. Yet all the same, I am owed. None of you assholes appreciated me to begin with! I AM A FUCKING HERO, DO YOU HEAR ME? HAIL ME! GIFT ME WITH YOUR MONEY AND YOUR BODIES TO USE AS I PLEASE OR I WILL RAZE THIS TOWN! I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DISRESPECT YOUR SAVIOR!
And so I'd scream and thrash, hurting those closest to me, but most of all hurting myself. Fingers raked down my arms, crying, I had only myself and my ego to blame. Love hurt me the most, I craved punishment and death and hatred and anger. I wanted conflict. But I would still be forgiven, no matter how huge my sins, for people loved me, and that was somehow the best pain of them all.
I just described one of two people; Sayaka Miki from Puella Magi Madoka Magica or myself.
When I watched Madoka, I was so blind to my own faults and rages that I didn't see the fact that when I walked by a mirror, Sayaka with blood running down her face looked back. It was only after my girlfriend pointed it out did I look back and realize just how right she was. Shit. Shit shit shit. How stupid could I be? Just how blind and dense was I? They say justice is blind but I didn't think they meant to this extant.
Sayaka is the ideals of knights and honor given form and then twisted into the most horrible end possible. Our egos overrun and our need to be recognized as heroes and get our dues twists us into raging demons who wind up cutting those close to us and then slicing ourselves to ribbons. We only find redemption in death after we come to and let the guilt from our crimes overwhelm us.
The only difference between her and I is I'm not dead.
Role models are wonderful people. Fiction and words and pictures are powerful tools. Having to see an idealized version of myself crash and burn so hard was difficult, to say the least. Sometimes it hits way too close to home and we have to pause and re-evaluate ourselves. I saw how Sayaka wound up and swore I had to overcome that. If it weren't for her story and similar ones, I wouldn't be anywhere close to admitting such faults or the fact rage and depression overtake me so violently and make me into someone I wish I could say I never was.
I'm still cleaning up the damage I've done in my past during these fits. I'm still remodeling myself so I don't fall as hard as she did. Sayaka is a role model to me, but not in the way someone like Celes or Agrias are to me. She is there to remind me that I, too, can falter and that nobody is perfect. She is what I cannot be.
If I don't try to not be her, I will lose everything I hold dear. Forever. And the worst part will be living forever with the fact I only brought it upon myself out of the need to try to force people to pity me.
The knave holding us by our necks and calling us worthless is no demons, no dark knight and no villain. It is ourselves. Our depression holding us and beating us down, throwing us to the wall. The only one who has ever been able to thoroughly defeat me is myself.
I need to be reminded of this, though. It's painful, but with time I've come to start to accept it and be the person I set out to be originally. Only by confronting our darker parts can we ever hope to achieve mastery of ourselves. Sometimes, though, it takes a fantastical, over the top example to grind these lessons into us. So I thank my stories and the words and ideas of others, no matter what form of media and fiction it takes, for helping me along the way, no matter how hard it's been.
Kindness is something I don't want or need
The sunshine would just dissolve me into light
Give me a pain as pleasing as your sigh
So I can feel you all the day and night
And keep me from fading away...
Someday. Someday I'll be the knight I claim I am. But only after I defeat my greatest foe and show her mercy and love unbridled can I obtain such a title. Until that foe can accept love and kindness in place of lashings and bloodshed, I will have to do everything I can to keep myself from utterly destructing.
Until I defeat myself.
I just can't lose hope. Not now, not ever. No matter how tempting.
Too many rely on me. I'll become the role model for them in the same way these people are for me. For my sake, and theirs as well I shall fight.
My sword is yours.
Lyrics in italics from 'Pain' by Joanne Hogg and Yasunori Mitsuda from Xenosaga Episode I
