Growing up, one of my favorite movies we anxiously waited for each year, was the appearance of The Wizard of Oz. It was back in the day before Blue Ray, Compact Discs, and VHS. The movie was only played once a year on television. It was a movie to savor.
I could do the math about how many times I’ve seen the movie, but I don’t want to work that hard this morning—it’s Saturday. I can tell you that I watched it into adulthood, and when I had kids, I tried to share my enthusiasm with them. It was very hard to compete with The Rugrats and The Power Rangers. I’m not sure my daughter even sat through a full version of the movie. I was positive Glinda would capture her attention, if not Glinda, surely Toto would. *sigh*
Looking back, I can laugh my silly head off regarding my ignorance about the messages throughout this movie. I can’t believe I didn’t see them. My friends and I acted out the scenes, and I swear, I had one friend who memorized all the lines. We knew all the songs, and skipped as if we were following the yellow brick road.
It wasn’t until I was a young adult, when a couple of friends and I gathered around the television to watch the yearly version. One of my friends shared a story about her dad going to the movie theater when it first appeared in the theaters, and how awed the audience was when the bright colors were so fabulously displayed on the big screen.
Then she talked about when she learned the lessons the movie teaches.
Lessons? There were lessons? Was this a movie I had to pay attention to and comprehend? How did I reach adulthood and not know of these lessons?
I wish I had paid attention, because maybe I could have grown up believing in myself and my abilities.
This morning, as I was performing my routine, I looked out the window at the dish washing station. Just like in the movie where it went from black and white to Technicolor, I felt this same sensation.
Please–before any suffering from depression, hop all over me, it took me a L O N G time to reach this point. A note to some of you suffering, work hard with your therapist, take your drugs until told not to, and take responsibility for the work you have to do to exit the world of depression. It can be done. I did it, when I was on the brink of giving up. I did it after 30+ years of suffering. It wasn’t easy, and filled with tons of setbacks, but you can do it too.
Anyway, my house landed upon the Wicked Witch of the East—finally.
I don’t need her sparkly red shoes, because I believe I can find my way from her on out.
I may have to look over my shoulder for the Wicked Witch of the West, and all her flying monkeys, but I’m hoping I have the tools to bat them away. I definitely have the water to pour upon that green lady with the ugly wart on her chin.
I apologize for the long post, and if you have made it to this point, I applaud you. But then most of my posts have been rather long lately.
This is the song that ran through my head as I was preparing my coffee this morning. It’s from the Wizard of Oz, titled Optimistic Voices. (How appropriate)
You’re out of the woods
You’re out of the dark
You’re out of the night
Step into the sun
Step into the light
Keep straight ahead for the most glorious place
On the face of the earth or the sky
Hold onto your breath
Hold onto your heart
Hold onto your hope
March up to the gate and bid it open
I don’t believe I have reached the land of Oz, but I found a simple yellow brick.
Hope you find something beautiful today.