Life is Like a Movie.

Dear Friend,

Wow. It’s been a while. I guess there’s a lot to catch up on, but here’s what I’m thinking…

I feel movies way too deeply. I feel each and every emotion that the characters feel, and get way too invested. A sad movie can honestly put me in a funk for like three days, and I’ve never understood that about myself. What is it about the human brain that wants so badly to relate to the visual content it’s taking in that it replicates the facial expressions and emotions its processing? I mean, I’ve noticed that when I watch a hallmark movie, my jaw hurts at the end because I’ve been smiling like a goof the entire time. And when I watch a sad movie I sob as the main character receives the horrible news that her childhood dog has died. Why does the brain do that? Why does it force me to experience the emotional rollercoaster that some fictional character in a chick flick is experiencing?

For the past few months, my mental health (let’s call her Lisa) has been a little sick. Now, it’s not COVID, as I did ask her to be tested before returning to work, but she’s definitely feeling a little under the weather. And I get it, we all have bad days, but Lisa doesn’t seem like she has that drive to get better. I always hear doctors saying that if a patient doesn’t want to get better, they simply won’t. You can see why that would be a problem for me because Lisa and I are a team. I can’t work if she doesn’t work, and she can’t work if I don’t work. It’s a great thing we have going here, but when one of us gets sick it all goes downhill.

All jokes aside, though, I’ve been plagued by severe anxiety for the past couple of months. And anxiety is a funny little thing. My anxiety, in particular, takes hold of the things in my life that I love most, and replaces those warm and fuzzy feelings with fear. It strips me of my laughter, of my humor (which is honestly just a sad thing in itself because I am hilarious), and my pride. And when this little challenge comes along I become me, but less. I don’t feel a shift, I just kind of fade a little. And then, when it becomes too much and I can’t fix it by myself, I go to the doctor. They tighten my screws and replace my batteries to help my light bulb shine brighter.

The reason why I’m telling you all of this is because people don’t remember things in days, they remember them in moments. And beyond that, people remember the way a moment makes them feel. Why do we remember the greatest movies in all of history? Because when Allie and Noah die in their sleep while holding hands in The Notebook, we all start to believe a little more in the power of true love. And when Hilly actually takes a bite of the pie Minny made in The Help, we all feel a sense of empowerment and a fire for justice. When Dorothy clicks her heels and finally makes it home in Wizard of Oz, we all feel homesick.

What I’m trying to say is that life is not a collection of days, it’s a collection of moments – good and bad. It’s like an extra long movie, full of moments. A movie just squishes all those moments up together to make the audience feel exactly what they’re supposed to feel. But overall, life’s moments are meant to be felt deeply…and then let go.

Love, Allie ❤