During my post-op recovery, I’ve probably watched 50 movies, some more than once…some more than twice. While I know there aren’t too many people reading this, I’m still embarrassed to admit how many times I watched Finding Nemo. It’s one of my favorite movies, not just animated, but all movies. And I LOVE Dory. Okay, I love Crush too, but that’s another topic for another day.
Let’s face it, Dory has issues and lots of them. But she’s warm, and sweet, and loyal, and, despite her issues – I guess her short-term memory loss could even be considered a disability – she doesn’t quit. She just keeps swimming.
Maybe I watched that movie multiple times because my subconscious was trying to tell me something in a kind way, instead of bashing me over the head because I’m too stubborn to take subtle hints. Maybe I was supposed to watch these animated creatures have things they love taken away, and struggle, against seemingly insurmountable odds, to regain some of what they lost.
Their journey is wrought with problems and adversity, but, despite dangerous challenges, they meet amusing characters and engage in compelling adventures along the way. They learn things about themselves and begin to question all the things they thought were true, the way they were certain things were supposed to be. They learn how to have fun.
Perhaps the most important lesson learned was that of letting go, learning to trust themselves and those around them. When we have things taken away, our first instinct is to hold on tighter to whatever is left. In our panic, we cling with such ferocity that we sometimes cause what’s left to implode, and we’re left, ass on the ground, in the middle of that damn impervious forest.
But not Dory. She’s in the middle of the vast expanse of ocean, not knowing where she is or where she’s going – okay, she knows she’s supposed to get to P Sherman 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney, but it’s not like she has a map or a flashlight. Somehow she just trusts that she’s going to get there. Irregardless of all her issues, she finds the strength to hold Merlin up as well. Quitting is never an option.
So, despite the fact I’m not really sure where I am or where I’m going (it’s probably not P Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney, but who knows?), maybe I need to take a few lessons from an animated fish. Perhaps I need to loosen my grip, not cling so tightly to what’s left, and trust that, somehow, I’m going to get where I need to be. Maybe, if I just keep swimming, I’ll make it through…