Anxiety, Blog, Mental Health

When the Queen Came to Call.

Blog two

Thursday 17th October (14 days till Samhain – Halloween)

I rescued a Bee today. From almost certain death, might I add? I noticed Yuki (my tabby with the softest fur in the world) was on the hunt as I sat at my desk minding my own business. I immediately sought out what had gotten her attention and what do I find? The largest, fluffiest and most beautiful bee I had ever seen. She was sitting quite neatly on my sash window sill, just above the radiator warming her small and perfectly adorable feet.

I didn’t know what to do for her, but firstly I had to evacuate the room of cats and make sure the visiting Queen had privacy. After shooing away her audience I threw my dressing gown at the foot of my door to ensure no unwelcomed four legged friends could enter, my door doesn’t shut, you see. I went immediately back to her highness once the perimeter was secure (can anyone else hear the mission impossible theme tune? No? Just me then…)  She was languishing on the side, slowly rubbing her hands together, as if she had her own plan in the works.

I sat with her then and waited hopefully for her recovery. I didn’t want to capture her and simply put her outside, its cold today and I thought it cruel to throw her out when she had clearly been seeking warmth. I had no raw cane sugar with me, only honey and brown sugar. You can’t feed a bee honey unless it is from their hive and you can’t feed then brown sugar, it would make her poorly or worse. So I sat there and hoped she would perk up. I was always taught, if you ever come across a Bee that seems out of soughts’, give them some space and allow them to rest if you can do nothing else. So I sat there and hoped she would perk up. I spoke to my fiancé and sent photos to my friends, trying to seek the best thing to do for the tiny monarch so unexpectedly in my care. It was a fruitless endeavour, there was nothing more I could other than sit there and hope she would perk up. My work stopped, I couldn’t focus on or doing anything other than watch this small important visitor. Hoping she would perk up. She stole my afternoon with worry and anxiety. I was so scared she wouldn’t perk up, I wondered how long I would sit and keep guard of her, meanwhile my fur babies beyond the door kept scratching, trying to gain entrance. ‘Our little Guardians’ as James likes to call them.

I fetched a large pint glass (Fosters to be precise) and a sturdy notebook (Paperchase with winged unicorns… to be precise) in hopes she regained her perkiness and was ready to fly again. She slowly made her way to the lip of the window sill, dangling her feelers and front legs over the side. It was comical in a way, like when you are sitting poolside at a spa and enjoying the calm. She seemed so peaceful. I on the other hand was in full anxiety panic mode, heart pounding in my ears, mind going a thousand miles an hour. ‘I must save her’ ‘How do I save her?’ ‘What if I don’t save her?’ ‘How will it feel if I fail?’ ‘What would I do with her little body?’ ‘When will I move on from not helping this helpless creature?’

Yeah…. I was sure doing a number on myself. I sat quietly, notebook in one hand and pint glass in the other. Poised and ready to catch her if she fell or capture her should she feel better. So, I sat there and watched her wings begin to come back to life; she raised her regal head and took in her surroundings. The Queen had been with me for around half an hour, sitting together enjoying the heat gifted from the radiator. As she began to move more, as did my logical thinking brain. I dragged myself out of my stupor and started to formulate a plan.

I approached her silently and with care, slowly bringing the notebook to her side. She slipped onto it without decorum and was less than impressed with the pint glass. Though in retrospect I probably should have gone with something that suits her stature, a crystal champagne flute perhaps? Oh well, maybe next time… We travelled together then, through the house, past the loyal guardians at the door and through the nightmarish hell that is my studio come closet. We defeated the stairs and made our merry way through the dining room.

We found ourselves in the kitchen; she sat impatiently in her sub-par temporary accommodation while I busied myself with my plan. I grabbed one of the furry bums lesser used treat boxes and continued to cut into the side of it, creating an entrance. I then placed two soft, clean and dry tea towels inside before finally placing two sheets of soft tissue on top. I carefully closed the lid, trapping the soft furnishings in the lip and sealing the newly formed Bee Convalescent Home.

I slowly removed the notebook that was keeping her majesty inside and tilted the glass creating a tunnel to her new home. Apparently she was far from impressed with my impromptu decorating style as she was not keen on paying the new home a visit. With some honeyed words and persistent encouragement, she walked her royal butt into her new palace and soon settled in.

I unlocked my backdoor, and after fighting with cobwebs and looking like an insane person flailing around with a broom, I found her the perfect little spot to recoup. Besides my large flowerpots and next to my weathered red fence. I placed her gingerly on the ground and walked back to the back door. Mission, accomplished. I had gone the distance of my bedroom to my garden and it felt like I had ran a marathon.

She was safe from my fur babies and as comfortable as I could make her. I knew I couldn’t do anything more, but my anxiety will forever berate me for not doing enough.

I have a hero complex, it stems from my childhood. I saw terrible things and could do nothing to stop them as I was just a child. It has translated into crippling guilt if I don’t save everything and everyone I come in contact with. Yes that includes the worms I find on my walks through The Rally (A park near my home on the way to the city centre), if I don’t move them to grassier pastures… they will either be stepped on, eaten or fried in the sun… All of which I couldn’t live with.

This is what I do to myself with every aspect of my life, I anxiously predict everything and punish myself for nothing.

It is a blessing and a curse.

That’s my entry for the day, I hope I haven’t depressed you too much. Just in case I have, here is an appropriate joke:

If you have a bee in your hand, what do you have in your eye?
Beauty, because beauty is in the eye of the bee-holder.

I’m sorry… that one was bad. Just know that I tried.

Speak soon blog xxx


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