The Ice Queen
Click to viewI know most of you are sick and tired of Frozen. Whether or not you've actually seen the film, if you're plugged into social media, you'll no doubt feel like you have. It's practically impossible to go out and not have some tendril of it wriggle into your day. For heaven's sake, I was in a Barnes & Noble bathroom, and I heard a 7 year old humming "Let It Go" as he washed his hands.
Such is the magic of Disney.
And while those of you that are hoping for the day when the flood of "Let It Go" cover artists will let it go, I still jam to it every few days. And every time I do, onions everywhere.
However, aside from being one of the greatest Disney songs of the recent era, "Let It Go" resonates with me on a deeply personal level. That's cause Frozen, for me, is a parable for mental illness, the destructive stigma attached to it, and learning to coexist with this looming boogeyman while accepting other people into your topsy-turvy world. Given my violent history with clinical depression and social anxiety, "Let It Go" is less a Disney sing-along, and more of an anthem of freedom.
Not to spoil the movie for anyone that hasn't seen it, but for those of you that battle with debilitating anxiety, have you ever seen a truer representation of its effects?
Isolated.
Cold.
The environment frozen and unmeltable.
Huddled in a ball, wanting... anyone, but too scared to let them in.
Much like mental illness, Elsa's magical powers elicit fear. A fear based in a lack of comprehension. Due to the ways her powers manifest themselves, her concerned parents teach her to "conceal, don't feel." Done with the best intentions, but instead of teaching their daughter how to come to terms with something intrinsically part of her, in their worry, they ask her to deny herself. And whatever we resist, tends to persist with a vengeance. Thus, something that is a part of her, but not her becomes one of the key things that defines her.
By the time she reaches the icy mountains and bursts into song, she's learnt to come to terms with her powers. Far from seeing them as dangerous and meant to be hidden, she delights in challenges. For the first time, she has ample reign to flex her muscles and see where her creativity can take her.
But no person can exist in a vacuum. When Anna and Kristoff barge into Elsa's Fortress of Iceitude, the pressure and problems that others bring into her idyllic, solitary existence manifests in yet another panic attack. She, quite literally, creates a monster and almost kills her sister by freezing her out.
I've experienced quite a bit of this -- particularly isolating myself from other people in order to limit the amount of drama that spills into my life. Quite simply, the less of the world you let in, the less likely anything can harm you. But what kind of existence is to be locked away in a mountain and deluded by the self? When you kill the flow, you not only prevent pain, but you kill the ability to rejoice.
Being a Disney film, we all know how it ends. "True love conquers all. Yada fucking yadaaaa" And while the truth of that resonates with me, it's a far too shallow space to leave this analogy.
Vulnerability, truth, compassion, acceptance, the help of others; all of these things must work in conjunction to deal with the self-perceived demons that we hold. It's easy enough to hide away in the mountains. But for me, I'd rather take what I've so long perceived as a curse and turn it in a blessing.
To state that I've come to terms with my illnesses would be grossly exaggerated. I still come in to work and want to hide in the bathroom. I still enter class, hoping to be the dashing, brilliant person I know myself to be... and end up paralyzed, unable to make eye contact with a single soul. These illnesses have stunted my ability to reach my goals because, while I want to help others, the monkey screaming in my ear has me unable to focus on anything else but ending the noise. Not a day goes by that the thought to silence all thought crosses my mind.
And yet, I've learned a massive amount from wrestling daily with clinical depression and social anxiety. The sheer amount of compassion and grace I have towards others borders on delusion. I will rarely look at another person and lazily write them off as crazy. Instead, I empathize and try to understand where they're coming from and what experiences could've led them to acting the way they do. Not only is that helpful in living as a decent human being, it's a strength and skill that only can help me in my writing endeavors.
In learning to ride the storm, I appreciate every waking moment that much more. Sometimes I'll see a field of yellow flowers for what it is, unwarped, and I have to stop to embrace the moment. And in my observations, I hope to impart and revel in it with others.
And for those of you who continue to perform acts of true love on the regular, thank you. I wouldn't wield the power I do without your relentless stupidity. Thank you.