Being poor and cynical means I don’t give to charity very often. If a hobo asks for money I offer to buy them a sandwich or a hot drink instead. The arsehole part of me wonders if all the diseases that have charities are just part of life’s natural selection process. So my pittance of money stays in my pocket. Except that is £5 every month. It shoots off to help people save bees. I really rather like bees. My parents keep some hives and have made their own honey for as long as I can remember.
In the grand scheme of things, virtually everything depends on bees. We don’t exist without bees. And while in my more depressed states I feel that perhaps humanity shouldn’t exist I am able to recognise that everything else would die too and that would be sad. Without them there to pollinate plants, the plants begin to die, once the plants begin to die the food chain is broken and our little circle of life shatters.
I’ve always admired bees though, they work their little stripes off to complete their purpose in life. Sometimes to the point of dying. They work themselves to exhaustion. Ever found a bee just sort of crawling around on the floor? It’s exhausted and can’t fly anymore. I always give them whatever sweet liquidy substance I have to hand, though jam works best. They’ll perk right up and bee on their way…
This week I have been a busy bee. There’s been stock take at work, so I’ve been working harder. I have to temporarily move out of my flat, so I’ve been packing up all my stuff. Two of my siblings have their birthday this week. A friend is getting married. And I have to finish a portfolio of written work.
This level of activity is unusual for me. I’m naturally lazy, quite unlike the bee. But I’ve been working myself to exhaustion. I have no trouble sleeping at the moment and there’s only so much a spot of jam can do. It has however meant that I have had not time to even consider my mental health. I’ve had no time to be depressed. And I sit here on a Thursday afternoon after having had what is a relatively happy seven days.
I’m not sure that running myself ragged is the way to go in terms of beating depression but it’s been a nice break.
If we are choosing animals that best represent us, I’m clearly not a bee. I feel like £5 a month on bees is one of my best spends. You’re welcome world, I’m keeping it spinning around…