“Why does every movie make you weep like a little bitch?”
That’s a great question, thank you for asking.
I love to weep at movies because it’s cathartic. I love the escapism of it. When I watch movies I always put myself in the character’s shoes. I always imagine what it would be like if it was me, and my husband died of cancer and sent me letters from beyond helping me heal and get over it. (P.S. I love you.) I like to imagine how my family would deal if I died from my diabetes. What would my funeral be like? Morbid, I know, but it’s just like Steal Magnolias.
The Notebook. Titanic. The Neverending Story. Now and Forever. One Day. The Lion King; I can’t even get through the first 3 minutes. Any of the family episodes of Survivor. The Olympics.
I weep like a little bitch and I love it. I purge all the shit that I don’t let myself cry about normally, with wracking sobs and an ugly face. You know, that face you make when you cry uncontrollably and your face gets all distorted and slobbery with leaking snot and drool? I also make my husband hold me while I do it. It’s so sad and heart wrenching. I love the catharsis, and I also love the word catharsis.
Luckily, he’s a good sport about it. One time, I wanted to watch The Notebook but no one would watch it with me so I watched it by myself. My husband fell asleep on the couch beside me, and as soon as my waterworks started, he woke up just to hold me.
Another time, I was visiting my buddy (the one that got married) while he lived across the country. He, being a big softy, and I decided we wanted to watch The Notebook. I don’t know what we were thinking. By the end of it we were both a mess. There’s a 3 hour time difference, and we were finished the movie around midnight which was 3am back home. I called my (then boyfriend) husband and when he answered the phone, I couldn’t even speak, I was just sobbing.
“What happened?!” He sounded mad.
“Nothing! Nothing…we just finished watching the Notebook.”
“I”m hanging up now.”
Yeah, I don’t blame him.
I guess the reality of it is that I don’t show my emotions all the often. I have them, I feel them, I revel in them so I know they’re still there, and I blog about them, which helps, but sometimes you just need a good, long ugly-faced cry.