Yesterday I threw myself a bit of a pity party before I went to the Awards Party with my book club girls, and as part of it, I watched a scene from my favorite Disney movie, Dumbo. It was the scene when Dumbo goes to visit his mother in the cell and she sings “Baby Mine.”
Afterwards, I thought about why, given my state of being, would I choose a song I knewwould make me cry, and the only thought that came to mind was that it also gives me some sort of feeling of belonging. Somehow, I feel like Dumbo.
The fact that it is my favorite Disney movie is something my mother has often said doesn’t make sense to her.
Well, a good friend of mine once pointed out that I also really enjoy The Jungle Book (the Rudyard Kipling book, NOT the Disney version), and that it’s because both deal with being separated from one’s mother. I identify with them, and being ostracized for being different. Mowgli isn’t one of the pack, Dumbo looks different, but in the end both of them are able to rise above their differences (somewhat literally in the case of Dumbo) and become the star of the show.
He thinks (and I do, too) that I identify with both of these characters because I am adopted and don’t look like my family, and in many ways don’t think or act like them. Dumbo was essentially raised by that little mouse, Timothy Q. Mouse (at least for the duration of the movie, and then later as his manager), and Mowgli was raised by wolves (literally). Not that my family is comprised of animals, but we are in a lot of ways fundamentally different. Continue reading Disney and Abandonment Issues→
There are certain things I don’t usually talk about because I feel like I’m admitting something is wrong with me if I let other people know. For instance, *I* can know that I like the Ewok movie better than the whole original Star Wars Trilogy (for sentimental reasons), but I don’t often say it out loud for fear I will lose some of my “Geek cred,” as a friend of mine says. And apparently today is the day for confessions, so I’m starting off big!
As if that wasn’t a big enough confession, the thing I really wanted to talk about today was Seasonal Depression.
I sometimes fall prey to seasonal depression. I sometimes see how grey and cold and nasty it is outside, and that grey and cold and nasty feeling seeps inside of me and makes me not care about things I should.
I stop cleaning.
I stop eating healthy.
I quit caring about work.
I find most things just too hard to do.
I don’t throw things out. I let the mess pile around me until my room or (as happened this time) my entire apartment looks like it belongs to the Trash Lady muppet from The Labyrinth.
When this happens, I usually can’t see the best place to start. I clean one room, usually a small one like the bathroom or the kitchen. It’s something that makes me feel like I’ve made some sort of progress, because I believe that any progress will motivate me to get the rest of it done. And if I’ve caught it early enough, it does! I can successfully pick everything up, and there will be no problems… until the next grey and cold and nasty series of days or weeks. In Texas, we don’t have that much cold and nasty weather, so I can usually catch it fairly quick.