When Joy Is Your Enemy: A Deeper Look at Disney's Inside Out

I want to enter into an honest conversation with you. One day I was listening to a podcast which spoke about mental illness and the stereotypes that are often associated with it. For those who do not know, Anxiety and Depression are a part of my world. Throughout my whole life I have been holding hands with Anxiety, seeing it grow and change into various forms, so it was only obvious that along the way Depression would take my other hand. So often we shrug off mental illness, sweeping it under the rug, finding any way we can to avoid these uncomfortable conversations. I admit these are hard conversations. To talk about such things, regardless of the fact that you yourself, or someone extremely close to you, statistically, has battled these monsters, we just don't talk about it. If you are wondering what this has to do with the movie, maybe this picture can help bring light to what I am trying to say.

Sadness, throughout the whole movie, is made out to be useless to Joy. Joy even goes so far as to make sure Sadness stays in a circle for fear that her sadness would touch or ruin other things. Maybe this is supposed to be a comical bit, but instead this is the perfect example of how society treats depression (and other mental illnesses). When I saw this scene, pain entered my heart, and hope emerged that maybe others would see this and understand. Surely society, who loves Disney and its creations, will understand that Sadness is being oppressed just like the rest of us struggling with mental illness. "Stay in your circle over there while I go and have a joyous time without you bringing me down." This is what Joy is. This is what society is.
     Regrettably, I have found this to be even stronger in the Christian perspective. "Maybe you need to pray more." "Perhaps this is God's way of punishing you." "God has given you so many blessings, just stop thinking about all of the negativity in your life." In other words, we should quit touching their happy, Christ-devoted way of life with our struggles. Rarely have I heard a sermon on this topic, and if I have, it most likely ended in "just read this religious book to get you through this hard time."

     What people like Joy don't understand is that we cannot simply get a quick-fix to our problems. Joy pushes us to sweep things under a rug, to pretend we are fine just as Riley is told to do by her mother when Riley's father is having a hard time adjusting. Struggling with depression is an everyday challenge, and due to societal standards, we try to keep it in our personally-designed circle. We don't want to be shunned or made to feel guilty, but we do. Just as Sadness is compelled to touch memories, we, as fallen humans, cannot stop Sadness from touching bits of our lives. Sometimes what should be joyous is sad. This is why Sadness has to touch the memories. The chemistry in our brains do not allow Joy to be our sole-driver. Joy is the one we pretend is in charge. We make a happy face, holding Sadness in a chalk circle, while feeling hopeless and helpless.
     Silence is killing us all. Trying to restrain Sadness (Our fears, our depression, our dirty secret swept under the rug) has caused me no joy, but instead to feel so alone and isolated. I cannot speak for everyone, but I hope, with this conversation, others can be made to feel like what they are feeling, even if it is not joyous or good, is okay because we are sharing it with others. As Christians we are asked to share in one another's burdens, yet we dismiss mental illness with such haste it leaves carpet burns on the skin. By now I hope you understand. When you are hurting, or a loved one is struggling, in my experience, "quick fixes" are not beneficial. If I ask what I should do, then by all means give your advice, but if Sadness has its hold, and my body is wracked with fear, being told to do something I can't in that moment causes my good friends Anxiety and Depression to clench their hands around my wrists. I cannot move. I cannot breathe. I feel guilty.
     If you learn anything from Inside Out or my post I hope it is this: Do not make us feel guilty. Understand we cannot control out brain chemistry, just like we usually cannot control our circumstances. In order for you to even understand the smallest bit of what we are going though, Sadness has to be our spokesperson. Joy is a charade, and Sadness is our relator. In the end of the movie, it is only by admitting the hurt and pain that anyone is able to connect with Riley. This goes for us as well. So often, I have felt guilty and burdensome because I am not what society wants me to be. I'm a little broken. This does not mean that my worth is any less than any other person's. Jesus himself said He came for the sick and broken, so shouldn't we, as a society, try to do the same?
     Erase the circle.
     Do not be ashamed.
     Jesus does love you.
     There are so many days full of Joy ahead.
     It's okay to cry and be who you are.
     You are not a burden, you are alive.

He said:

3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
4 Blessed are those who mourn,
    for they will be comforted.
5 Blessed are the meek,
    for they will inherit the earth.
6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
    for they will be filled.
7 Blessed are the merciful,
    for they will be shown mercy.
8 Blessed are the pure in heart,
    for they will see God.
9 Blessed are the peacemakers,
    for they will be called children of God.
10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Mathew 5:3-10

Why I Got A Tattoo

I did the thing. I went to a tattoo parlor and got the words of C.S. Lewis permanently etched into my skin. Now, why would I do such a thing? Sure, I love C.S. Lewis to death, and going on the C.S. Lewis tour in Northern Ireland heightened my love for him, but that was not the main reason. Sure, my friends and I dressed as the Pevensie children freshman year, and yes I was Lucy, but that's not entirely it either.

The truth is sometimes life is extremely difficult. Sometimes I am weighed down by what life has to offer, and staying in bed all day sounds quite nice indeed, and what do I even have to get up for anyway. I was the person in high school who drew smiley faces on the calendar if I had a good day, because most days I needed the reminder that I could have a good one.

In C. S. Lewis' novel, "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader," There is a passage where Lucy is on Caspian's boat near an island where all your dreams come true.This sounds nice at first, until they all realized all the nightmares they had had, and how those are the kinds of dreams coming true. This is what it's like to be struggling. All the nightmares you could imagine are starting to creep onto the boat, their scratches inching closer in the darkness. During this time of terror, Lucy asks for Aslan to save them, that if he ever loved them wouldn't he please save them? That's when a great albatross crosses the sky and says to Lucy, "Courage, dear heart." And at once Lucy knew it was Aslan, and the sky went from black, to gray, to blue. She was safe, and the darkness was gone.

This is why I have my tattoo. It is a permanent reminder that yes, life can suck and be the most terrifying thing, but that I am not alone. My God loves me, and I can take comfort in that. True, it may be very hard sometimes to see that I am not alone, or that continuing on is for the best, but this is why it's etched into me. I never want to forget the love of my God, or how he saves.

If anything, my tattoo may as well be a dare. When things get dark and intimidating, I dare myself to take on courage and keep going. I know a lot of others struggle with depression and anxiety. My heart goes out to you all, as a person who has had a panic attack in a Walmart parking lot, I know these things are hard and inconvenient. Even so, perhaps take up this challenge with me; tattoo optional. Just take a few moments and will yourself to be courageous, and maybe we can get through this crazy life together if you like.

Feel free to send me questions, my life should be an open book.
I love you all,
Alisha

Open Mic Night

It was the weirdest experience I've had in a long while, and I have had some pretty weird ones. I went for a night out on the town, which in Tulsa on a Tuesday night means going to a local coffee house's open mic night. I had no idea what to expect, but I followed my friend inside a dimly lit coffee house (mood lighting for good feelings), and nearly every table and couch was filled with interesting characters all here to share their thoughts and songs, supporting the arts. So, without knowing how this was going to go down, I got myself a mocha and a cinnamon crumb cupcake and sat down with my friend at the only available table, spitting distance from the mic itself.

Things then started, beginning with a boy who wrote a poem about love and the sadness of losing the girl. Touching, but it seemed a little extreme. Maybe it reminded me of my angst-filled poems from high school about unrequited love, which we all know was not love at all. Then there were several musicians, some pitchy, some playing weird instruments that they really didn't seem to know how to play, and it ranged from a young man trying to be Elvis, to a country artist, to a guy who seemed to be going for an old school rocker, but really was just singing in a gravely voice way too loudly (while his guitar skills were fairly impressive to say the least).

So what is this supposed to mean? I recently finished a novel by John Green called An Abundance of Kathrines, which all you need to know is that the main character, Collin, just wants to matter. Collin was a child prodigy, but fears he won't grow up to become a genius now that he's graduated high school. I feel perhaps I have this same fear. I am by no means a prodigy at anything, but I just want to find some way to matter. I have this constant fear that I am simply mediocre at everything, and will never be wonderful at anything. I fear I am nothing but average.

Then I go to this open mic night, and have to hide a few laughs at what was sometimes being performed, and I thought, with the wretchedness that is humanity, that at least I am not that. But even the fact that these people, while maybe not close at all to being prodigies in music or comedy or poetry, are at least trying. They put themselves out there in a way that strikes me with so much fear. I am the person who will literally strive to be second at something, vice-president of a club or class instead of president, doing backstage work instead of being onstage during shows.

Maybe I can learn a lesson from the kid with dreadlocks and a weird, green, metal thing that looked like a ufo, but he called a drum. I had no idea what he was talking about, and his poems reminded me of a version of myself from ninth grade, who was trying to figure out who I was in this new pool in life known a high school. Even he, who baffled me so much, was a traveller and lover of things, and was doing exactly what he loves, and sharing it with people who were very receptive of that kind of love. This guy, one of the most outrageous, was at least working towards something I would be too afraid of doing. In John Green's novel, Collin believes he was a prodigy, but also admits that it is only through handwork that he is able to do the things he is able to do.

So what all of this means is not to be obsoletely crazy, but at the same time fear should not be so crippling. If you want to do something, then what the heck, go for it. Be Troy Bolton from High School Musical, and sing at karaoke night, and then get the lead for the musical (or, you know, be ambitious enough to at least try to get it). We live in a world that is so concerned with safety and social expectations that we are losing the drive to be more. Even the Beatles were rejected and had to work for an extremely long time, singing in local bars and what not, before they were even recognized as being something more than just a band of guys with a hopeful wish. So, be the kid with dreadlocks, or Troy Bolton,  or The Beatles. Just pick something you love and just do it (after all, if Nike says it it must have some worth to it). If you are going to matter to the world, or anyone at all, you have to first matter to yourself. Take the time and energy to make an investment in what you can do and what you will do. Maybe writing poetry full of angst is the first step to writing poetry like Frost. Only time will tell, and only if you put your time into it.

Laughter

When I was in high school I spent a lot of time at a friends house where her parents seemed to argue fairly often. This was not too new to me because I had had friends before who lived in homes a bit loud and crazy, so we would just hang out in my friend's room and talk about the pressing problems of the life of a high schooler. Yet, I can remember quite vividly one day in that house when we were just talking in my friend's room, as we usually did, and her parents were watching something together in the living room. It was nothing unusual until I heard the sound of both of her parents laughing together at whatever it was they were watching. To a normal person this may not mean much, but to me it became one of the most beautiful sounds I had ever heard.

I find that laughter is very underestimated in society. We all know it as a positive thing, but I can guarantee there is that one person in your life whose laugh is far from pleasing to the ears. We rarely talk about laughter in any other context than that of obnoxious levels. Yet, I have found myself facing some kind of weird phenomenon. Yes, there are people who can make me cringe with their laugh, but strangely enough it doesn't seem quite right when I have gone a long time without hearing it. The thing about obnoxious laughter is that it still express this idea of joy and happiness, and even though it may not be a cute laugh, it has the same amount of importance in life. So, after a long absence of the sound, when I hear that laugh again, I find I may roll my eyes a little, but there is also this small smile that I find on my face. Joy is joy, no matter what sound expresses it.

Sometimes I hit rough patches in life. It is not too much of a secret that I will occasionally struggle with feeling depressed. When this happens, at the end of the day, I force myself to step back and look at my day. I find I must ask myself, "Did you laugh today?" and most of the time I will say, "Yes." To which I then have to tell myself. "Then it was worth it." No matter how small it was, there was something in my day that made me laugh, and if I can still find something to make me laugh I have to keep going.  There is a quote by Robert Frost that says, "Happiness makes up in height what it lacks in length." I do believe he was onto something here, because while we may find spurts of happiness and laughter few and far between they are good and worth living for.

So, maybe it's something you read that makes you laugh, or maybe it's the sound of another person's laughter that you never even thought to listen for. Either way it is something beautiful and worthy of being treasured. God pretty much ensured that life was going to be hard, but we are also blessed with the gift of laughter. I cannot fully express how beautiful laughter truly is, and maybe I shouldn't try. Perhaps it isn't even something you can look for. But, oh how great is it when you stumble upon it! So be blessed, friends, and never underestimate the power of laughter.

Daddy's Song

(Listen to the full song before reading this. I know it looks long, but honestly it's worth your time.)

When I was little, as I have previously written about in another post, I was plagued by nightmares. One of the things that would calm me down at night was when my dad would play this song for me. The song is so powerful it could probably speak for itself. The words and actions of the father are so precious and touching. I was always comforted, thinking not only was my earthly father here to comfort me, but so is my Heavenly Father.

I distinctly remember one night when I was awoken by my own crying. I had dreamed that I could not find my father, no matter how hard I looked. For a child, not being able to find your parent is so distressing, I thought I would never be okay again. Yet, I woke up to find my dad at my bedside, and the relief of reality washed over me.

Now that I am older, I find myself occasionally stumbling into the role of the son. Whether it be my own selfish ambitions, or the chains of my insecurity, I will find myself wondering where I am and where my Father has gone. Yet, I find the words of the Father crying out to me as He does in the song, "Come here my precious, I know you are hurting, and though you have left me, I welcome you home."

There is something powerful in our God. After all the pains we put him through, throwing our own sinful lashes and weights upon him, He still wants us and adores us dearly. "I love you, oh how I love you." The Father sings in the song. I am always humbled greatly by this song. I think terrible thoughts in the day, I complain that God has not given me the life I deserve, or that I just think I'm broken, that God did not make me the way He should have. Terrible, terrible thoughts, and His response to me is He loves me, and is waiting for me to just give it all to Him and let Him love me; God alone can unravel my fears and cut away the pain of my life. Just as the boy does in the song, I then find myself filled with grief, grief that I am so ungrateful for such a loving God who died for me.

Yet, I then find myself revived, as I recall my Father's triumph of death. Just as He died for me, I die to my old self and start anew, singing the song of the boy and Father "I'll have no other, for I love you only. I'll never forsake you, or leave you alone." "Here in your arms, i'll always be, at rest in the precious love you have for me. I love you, oh how I love you." I have been faced with depression several times in my life, and I truly believe it is God's love that carries me through it, and I hope you know how much you are truly and undoubtedly loved.

The Beast

It is pretty well known that my dog is constantly referred to as beastly or demonic. Most people would think this is a dramatization, which is partly true, but anyone who has encountered my dog may feel tempted to agree. The moment someone walks through our front door you can hear the horror music play as the dog rips across the front room and launches her 60 lb self at the poor innocent guest. Needless to say, I have had more than one friend complain about having my dog stick its head in their mouth after ambushing them on the couch.

There was also a time where I could claim she was eating us out of house and home. It was about six months after owning her that, after letting her in from outside, we noticed she had brought something in with her. After a little chasing, we found that Padme (my dog) had brought in a chunk of cement. She was literally eating our house. She has also attacked our blinds that cover the sliding glass door and tugged up carpet in the front room. Needless to say she can be quite the hassle. Beast-like if you will.

Yet, there's this part of her, late at night, where she settles down and curls up next to you on the couch. It's sweet and, while most don't see this side of her, it makes everything else worth it.

Now, i'm sure you're wondering why the heck i'm writing about my dog. Well, in a lot of ways we are like my dog, Padme, Destroyer of Worlds.

There's a C.S. Lewis quote that says, "Let's pray that the human race never escapes Earth to spread its iniquity elsewhere." Most may agree with Lewis when we read all the sad stories and see all the depressing news on television. Yet, my first response was, "What about our potential for good?"

Because, you see, we are so accustomed to noticing the beastly part of humanity that we hardly take notice of the good qualities of man. Yes, we should be aware of all of the bad things going on, but we should not stop there. And, if for some reason you can't see any good, then be the good, and shortly it should follow you. God will never completely abandon you. There's always something out there, even if it happens to be a beastly dog with a secretive loving side late at night.

My Love Story

When I was little I was in a constant state of fear. This was most likely due to my extremely active imagination combined with all of my friends being obsessed with the supernatural. I was even really good friends with a girl whose mother worked as a ghost hunter. No joke, she did it. So, needless to say I feared that time of night when the sun went down and the parents sent me to the dark chamber that was my bedroom. I was very well known to have several nightmares and night-terrors (which involved crying and screaming without waking up, and sometimes sleepwalking as well), so sleep was a frightening thing for me for a very long time.

In my upper elementary years, My mom bought me a wall hanging that had all of the different names of Jesus on it. My personal favorite was, of course, Prince of Peace. I would pray each night to my Prince of Peace in hope that my dreams would be soothing and that I wouldn't feel the need to rush next door to my parents room like I tended to do so often. Eventually, I was calmed through several years of prayer and spiritual growth.

Yet, I still hold dear the name Prince of Peace. About a month or so ago, I had been severely struggling with being content. One night in my passion group we admitted our biggest fears to one another. I thought about it for a little bit, and I realized my biggest fear was that I would never be content relationally. I have always had this drive to find 'the one,' which sounds a bit odd, but I did. It grew hard for me as I began to feel unwanted or unlovable, and even though I have wonderful friends sometimes I just wanted more than that.

It was a selfish ambition and it did not take long before God began to pull the brakes. A dear friend of mine prayed for me that night, and while I may not remember the words exactly I remember the picture they delivered, that my Prince had already been here. My Prince of Peace already came for me long ago, and He loved me so much He died for me. I have been told that so many times, sadly it became a bit routine, but I had never realized how romantic it was, or that the Prince of Peace was my Prince all along. He was there when I shuddered in my bed at night, and He has continued His courting of me through friendships i've made, and the classes and chapels at JBU. He wanted me so much more than I have ever longed for another human being, which is such a powerful concept, because human drive can be quite something.

The Bible is now no longer a text full of do this and don't do that. No, instead the Gospel is how Jesus and I began our relationship. He came for me, and even though I did not yet exist He fought for me. He fought so hard that He died, and then beat death. That is how strong His love is for me. The rest of the words of the New Testament became His love letters to me. They guide me in how to grow closer to Him, and it is sustaining. The fact that the books are not written by Jesus Himself does not matter, because it simply means there was a messenger, like when a woman receives word from another man sent from her significant other who is off in war. The words may have been given by someone else, but it does not refute the love behind them. He is my Prince of Peace, and it brings me so much joy to know that. I cannot say whether or not singleness is my calling, but I can say, in this moment, I am content, and that makes all the difference.