With the Unbridled Optimism of a Drill
(Trigger Warnings: Suicide)
I can say with full confidence that no piece of media has affected me and the trajectory of my life quite like Gurren Lagann has. I can fully acknowledge its flaws, but it will always remain my favorite anime– my favorite piece of media. Since the movies are coming to theaters this week and next week, I wanted to reflect on what Gurren Lagann means to me. This may lack the more structured approach that past and future posts will contain, but this is something I want to talk about.
“Libera me” from Hell
My history with mental illness is a bit of a rocky one. My depression first started to show itself in middle school. I remember a friend telling me that no one wanted to be around me because of how depressing I was. I get it. I wasn’t always fun to be around because I was constantly being dragged down by my mental state. Moreover, I can’t blame a sixth grader for not wanting to be around such a downer. The fact that I was in sixth grade didn’t help things, either, since I did not really know what was going on. I was just depressed.
This only got worse as I went into Junior High. I’ll spare you the gritty details of what happened to instigate it, but I ended up trying to take my own life. As I always say: “Obviously, I failed.” But I can’t say I was ever really the same after that. I retreated into myself and kept my feelings to myself. Sure, I had friends, but I would never let them see that side of me.
July 28, 2008. Sci-Fi had a programming block called “Ani-Monday” that brought a lot of anime to the US. I remember watching Rave Master (does not hold up) and Mobile Suit Gundam 00, but the show that really caught me was Gurren Lagann. Aside from the 4Kids block on Sunday mornings, this was the first time I was introduced to what anime was and what it could really be. I was hooked by Gurren Lagann; from the first episode to the ending, I watched it every Monday. I laughed and cried and was gripped throughout.
Just two months earlier, I had tried to kill myself. I was constantly paralyzed by my depression and anxiety and I really had no one or nowhere to go to with it. The church was definitely no help in this regard, and I did not want to word my parents, so I dove into this show. And let me tell you: I fully believe it saved my life.
“This is the story of a man who has yet to realize his destiny.”
I saw myself in the character of Simon. A scared boy thrust into a world that was openly hostile to him. He was unsure of himself and was constantly paralyzed by fear. As the show goes on, there comes a point where this paralysis and anxiety boils over. He locks himself in a room and refuses to come out and help. He is looked down upon by his friends and teammates due to this, which only further drags him down into his hopeless spiral.
As he eventually comes out of his depressive spell, he finds himself. He finds a purpose and a goal. He reaches towards it and lets nothing stop him. This theme is carried through the end of the show– pushing forward and pushing past everything that would hold him back. That is what a drill does: it pushes through and past the dirt, tossing it behind itself as it digs ever forward. Simon’s transformation from a scared boy into a confident and self-assured man inspired me. Yuri Lownethal’s performance as Simon elevated the heartbreak and subsequent overcoming of his difficulties and resonated with me on a level that few performances have.
On my left arm is a tattoo with a drill and the words “GRIT THOSE TEETH” emblazoned on it. This is repeated three times throughout the show, all while the receiving characters are experiencing bouts of extreme anxiety (followed by a swift punch to the face). It’s a constant reminder to me, even when I’m frozen by panic and anxiety, to grit my teeth and press forward.
Ore wo ore-tachi wo dare da to omotte yagaru?
The concept of “manliness” is a difficult one to accurately nail down. We all have different ideas of what makes a man, mostly due to our upbringings, but also due to society. I want you to think about how you would define manliness; usually, the picture we have is stoic and self-assured. A “man” is someone who puts forward the literal definition of unwavering strength in the face of adversity; no doubts and no anxieties.
Kamina deconstructs this idea. He has his doubts and anxieties. He conveys these to Yoko when talking about Simon. He talks about how Simon inspires him to move forward; how when he struggles to continue on, he looks towards his ‘younger brother’ to give him the push he needs. He does not hide his emotions, but he does not let them control him, either. The image of this man, someone who is fearful, but tempers his fear with bravery and emotional strength to prevent it from overcoming him, colors the entire show. His spirit is ever-present, no matter the scene or situation.
When doing my Therapeutic Dungeon Master course, we were given an assignment to construct a few different characters based on personality concepts. One of those was a “modeled” character; this was someone who embodied the qualities we wished to have. They were essentially our ideal personality displayed in media of some sort. They had qualities we wished to embody and we could point to them and say “that is who I want to be.” My instructor pointed to Indiana Jones in Raiders; I pointed to Kamina in Gurren Lagann.
Regardless of the circumstances, Kamina chooses to see past what is possible and try to do the impossible. “Go beyond the impossible & kick reason to the curb! That's how Team Gurren rolls!” Even if it doesn’t make sense, even if it seems impossible, Kamina aims for the heavens and doesn’t settle for the atmosphere. That is who I wanted– want to be. Someone who aims for the sky.
That’s what I did with this business. It didn’t really make sense from a societal point of view, much less a “manly” point of view. I left a stable therapist job for a stable(ish) company with a stable pay only to start my own business from scratch. It seemed impossible. In reality, it still feels that way. It feels like I am currently doing something impossible. That’s why my logo is what it is. My logo, created by my father, has a drill for a background. Like a drill, I move forward towards the impossible heavens, pushing the possible to the side as if it was dirt.
That’s not to say I reject reality and refuse to look at what’s possible. Realistically, I know what my restrictions are. But I push forward anyway. I want to do the impossible. I want to make the improbable probable.
