Image: Square Enix
Unmoored From Death, and Life
On Final Fantasy X-2 and Surviving Brain Surgery
by Halle Lyle
When I was only four years old, I became a walking ghost. I was diagnosed with a then-unknown neurological condition that caused several absence seizures per day. Absence seizures are different from the tonic-clonic, or “grand mal,'' seizures more often depicted in media: they’re not an obvious series of convulsions and muscles stiffening, but sudden lapses of consciousness. Depth perception issues and vertigo impacted my ability to participate in most sports or team activities, so I became uninterested in trying. I was unable to swim safely, or even ride a bike without supervision. Eventually, I started playing video games.
I used the fantasy worlds within games to escape burdens. Familial issues, bullying, or significant health concerns could disappear for a little while. One such world was Spira, the grief-laden, religious society created for Final Fantasy X, and its heroine Yuna. Yuna, a young priestess, is sent off as a sacrifice in an effort to delay the apocalypse. During her journey, she meets Tidus, the selfless, headstrong hero, and falls in love with him.
I didn’t care for Yuna at first. She was pure, beloved, and given endless sympathy. I didn’t have any of those things, and I resented Yuna for it. She never defied social expectations, and she did as she was told. However, as I played, I watched Yuna take risks based on what she knew to be true in her heart. By the end of Final Fantasy X, Yuna had become someone who openly fought for herself and her friends. I admired her. When she lost Tidus, who had become her light at the end of the tunnel, I found myself identifying with Yuna. In my own life, it felt like every win came with an equivalent loss. However, I didn’t see my own life fully reflected in Yuna’s until I played Final Fantasy X-2.
Final Fantasy X-2 was released in 2003, when I was ten. It was the same year that I had major surgery to remove the tumor that had been creating my increasingly severe neurological disruptions. I had been homeschooled for the past year, which had been something of a relief. At school, bullies targeted me, and teachers got frustrated at my headaches and exhaustion. My worries weren’t like those of my classmates. I was afraid of getting ill in class and being mocked.
On an early Saturday morning in September, I had the surgery, which was an invasive procedure involving a drill to the skull. It seemed like the procedure belonged in a horror movie, not my life. I remember that I told the doctors,“Let’s get it over with.” The doctors said I was brave, but I just felt tired.
When I woke up, I remember thinking that the operation hadn’t begun yet. Four hours had passed but it felt like less than ten minutes since I was put under anesthesia.
After my operation, I felt lost. Doctors said I was incredibly strong, and my prognosis was a best-case scenario. That may have been true, but I felt guilty and hollow. I suffered chronic nightmares and was unhappy for reasons I couldn’t pinpoint. Many of the children I met in the hospital would stay there for significantly longer than me. Some likely wouldn’t survive. Still, any day could end in disaster for me, too. I could have episodes again and be injured, and the ever-present danger of my brain simply not responding after one remained. I wouldn't be able to live alone, or travel. Showering alone, exercising, and controlling any form of transportation could all be sources of undue risk.
In Final Fantasy X-2, Yuna is forced to reckon with the consequences of defying fate while also grappling with her grief over Tidus. Yuna didn’t expect to be alive and doesn’t know what to do with the life she still has. Instead of being overjoyed, she is tired. Yuna becomes a treasure hunter, but often wonders why she cannot enjoy her freedom and success. The expectations she carried all her life still weigh on her, and she now recognizes that the kindness and praise she received was thinly veiled pity from a society sending her to slaughter.
I knew how it felt to be presented with a complete upheaval of the terms of your existence. It is a heavy burden to grieve for yourself, then be presented with freedom you thought you would never have.
Yuna reassured me that it’s natural to feel all kinds of emotions after trying to avoid, while simultaneously expecting, my own demise. She also showed me a future where I could wake up and want to experience life. In Final Fantasy X-2, I watched as Yuna jumped into new situations while maintaining her kindness and openness. She could have chosen to withdraw, but she didn’t. She chose to begin healing. For me, healing looked like confronting my discouraging internal narratives head-on and giving myself space to feel positive emotions. Like Yuna, I realized that, while everything I’ve been through wasn’t right, kind, or fair, I could treat others with these principles.
Many deride Final Fantasy X-2 as unnecessary or silly. I don’t agree. I believe that it is a reflection of internal change. The fun, lighthearted, adventurous side of Spira and of herself that Yuna discovers always existed, but Yuna couldn’t see that. Freedom and self determination allow her to open her eyes - just as they did for me.
Halle Lyle is an independent artist, writer, and aspiring game designer. Her favorite genres include RPGs, platformers, action games, and narrative adventure games. Halle also enjoys crafts, cooking, and fashion. Find her on Twitter at @Vulpixel_.