Wasted Gesture

By now most, if not all of us, have heard the story or seen the clip of the Ukrainian woman in her later years, who gave the Russian Soldier a handful of sunflower seeds to put in his pocket.

I am currently in my 5th week of residing in a mental institution for anxiety-related health issues, and neuropsychological assessments. Two days ago I decided to take all of the leave I am allowed for a day. I've been making good, tough progress and I wanted to go to the nail salon I've been going to for over 5 years because I wanted to treat myself a little. It was the 9th of March here in Australia, but still the 8th in the U.S., so technically I was spoiling myself for International Women's Day. I got myself a basic pedicure, and a manicure featuring the nail art you see pictured above. I thought "It's time to show some solidarity. It's time you made a statement, even if it's small and subtle." So I asked for the Ukrainian flag on my ring fingers, and sunflowers on my middle fingers. My nail artist said that wasn't a problem, they could do sunflowers, but she was confused, "Why a sunflower?"

I asked her "Have you not heard the story about the little old woman with the pocket full of sunflower seeds in Ukraine?"

She shook her head no. I smiled like the Cheshire cat and said "Oh honey, let me tell you a story!"

After I finished telling her about it, she started looking up YouTube tutorials on her phone. Now I was confused and asked her why; She had said they had sunflower stuff they could use for me already. She told me they did; stencils and stickers. She had decided that wasn't good enough and she wanted to hand paint them for me. I knew hand-painted stuff cost a little extra ($5 - who cares?), but she's amazing, and I've been coming to this place for years. I'm happy to support a small, family-run business - especially as we are still emerging out of COVID restrictions over here.

Not only did she undercharge me for everything, it all came out better than I imagined it would. I had my yellow and blue claws, with my sunflower "fuck you!" statement! Hell yes, look at me protest while pampering myself on International Women's Day for my little wins while being stuck in an institution! I was the embodiment of empowerment and defiance! I was doing something, even just a little thing, for myself and for another country! Look at me celebrating myself, rebelling, and helping with my show of solidarity!

I got back to the mental hospital, stepped out of my Uber like a rockstar, and proudly showed off my "support" to my crew of friends sitting outside in the area we've lovingly dubbed "The Smokers Pit". Anyone that didn't know the sunflower story at the time, damn well does now. I sat on the filthy concrete with the rest of my degenerate riff-raff, surrounded by discarded cigarette butts, rubbish, gum so old it has turned black and hardened to plaster in the Melbourne sun, and chain-smoked while we talked about how horrible the situation in Ukraine is. We stayed in a tight group, which has become second nature to us, to avoid the homeless, usually high and drunk folks that wander the street right outside the private hospital we are checked into for our mental health. We talked about the prams that have been left at the train stations in Poland for any mothers that need them when they arrive, fleeing their homes in Ukraine with their babies. We passed around someone's phone showing the picture of the Russian soldier that had surrendered and was given food and tea and was on a video call with his mother to let her know he was ok. We talked about the stories of hope, and how Volodymyr Zelensky is fighting alongside his people - not hiding in a safe house in another country.

When all of my time for the day had been used up, I came back inside. I returned to my cinderblock room and immediately washed my hands, as usual. I don't even have OCD; because I have to touch several doors and rails to get up one level and into my room, somehow no matter what the cleaning staff here do, everything is just sticky with the feel of illness. I surveyed my little domain to check, just one more time if there was anything I could do to make it feel less like a prison cell. The carpet looks like it was taken out of a derelict hotel in the 60s and put into the hospital. I don't know what exactly is smeared on my walls, but the room doesn't stink so I'm not wasting my wet wipes to try to get it off myself. I didn't check in to the hospital with depression, but this room definitely carries the weight of it. I gave up on the room and returned my focus to feeling empowered and like I'd done something good for Ukraine, and a little old lady I'd never meet.

To add an extra touch of "Damn right" to the effect, I put the silver ring that's in the picture on my middle finger and added some oomph to one of my sunflowers; it was my Grandmother's ring. She would have been 100 this year. I'm sure she'd have had a thing or two to say about what's happening in Ukraine at the moment. I'm willing to bet that both things one and two would have involved a lot of swearing. I'm also pretty sure she'd been to Ukraine once or twice in her lifetime, as she had traveled the world twice over.

I immediately hopped on Facebook to post some sort of "Hell yes, look at me being all supportive and showing solidarity on International Women's Day! Look at me DOING something! Take that world; I did a THING!" I was George Edgerly Harris III putting a whole Sunflower into the barrel of a Russian fucking tank!

I was about to post the same on Instagram (with better filters, obviously) when something came across my Facebook newsfeed:

After spending weeks in one of the best private mental health facilities in the Sothern Hemisphere, which is 100% covered by my health insurance, I had just ridden in an Uber to and from my nail salon, where I had myself pampered, sitting in a manicure chair having someone paint sunflowers on my fingers. The whole process took roughly 3 hours.

During that time a total of 1,207 civilians had died in an attack on the city of Mariupol, which included the bombing of a maternity and children’s hospital.

And I was having my fucking nails done; "Making a difference".