Deep down in the core of my person I have what some people might refer to as “crippling trust issues”. It’s this fun little quirk that I’ve been cultivating since I was six years old, which makes me all suspicious and snarly of people and situations. I try to keep it appropriately balanced with just the right amount of charm and adorable sarcasm so my un-trustiness stays moderately cute and socially appropriate… and also hilarious for blogs.
So I am constantly trying to make improvements on this little issue (which, you know, shapes the foundations of all of my relationships) through talking with friends/family/trained personnel, being conscious of the issue when I see it come up, or reading books with soft pink covers of women walking through daisy fields under vaguely inspirational titles like “The Gift of Loving” or “The Pathways to Healing” or “If You Look Behind You and See Only One Set of Footprints… it’s Because You Don’t F**king Trust Anybody So You’re Walking Alone”. I’m sure you’ve seen the books.
So I make baby steps of progress and slowly learn how to “person” like the rest of you properly functioning humans, until…
Disney f**king ruins it all!
Now, I love Disney with a deep and unhealthy love. They are the haven of two-hour resolutions and Happily Ever Afters that feed my wounded coping mechanisms. When I was a wee child I watched The Little Mermaid 3-4 times a day for an entire summer (and no, that stat is not made up; my sister and our babysitter who still cringes at the sight of Sebastian will back me up on that statement). Disney was the place of perfection where everything always worked out with a song and a bunch of helpful woodland creatures.
And life was good. And weird little Tracy felt safe.
And then Disney said “Screw you, Combs!”
Disney betrayed me recently. They saw me learning to cope and trust and as an organization they said, “Ha, not today!”, and they released this updated version of their movie.
Remember when THIS was Maleficent:
“Yeah, she’s only 16… which doesn’t really affect your trust issues… it’s just icky since some guy is up there kissing her cold dead face and she’s going to marry him the second she wakes up.”
And so I left the theater that day, surrounded by people who were talking about how wonderful the movie was, feeling icky inside. Oh, and also betrayed. It was sort of like that feeling you had when you fell in love with Tim Curry watching Clue growing up, and then years later you saw Rocky Horror Picture Show for the first time, and then your brain cried.
“No Disney, bad touch!”
But I somehow managed to pick up the pieces of that devastating 20 year joke Disney played on us all. I managed to carry on and continue life like a grown up who’s view of the world hadn’t been totally based on cartoons. Buuuutttttt then, in the spirit of one step forward and three steps back, this happened: