thoughts after watching The Prince of Tides

Note from Heather: I am feeling better, but Crash was awake most of the night with an earache. My sleep deprivation has apparently caused me to let my guard down and write about heavier subject matter than I usually care to discuss in this forum.

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When I was home sick Thursday, I learned that a person can only sleep so much even if that person’s favorite hobby is sleeping. Most of our movies are still packed up in a storage shed as a result of our almost move so it was slim pickins for entertainment. I did find two movies that had somehow avoided being packed and they happened to be two of my favorites.First I watched The Prince of Tides. Most of you know that I am a huge Barbra Streisand fan. Shaddup. I think I was a gay man in another life. I love Barbra Streisand, Dolly Parton, feather boas, vintage clothing and costume jewelry. But I digress. The Prince of Tides has always been one of my favorite movies. More than anything, I am mesmerized by the cinematography. I live in a very barren place and I am always captivated by the beauty that is South Carolina. I’ve also always been struck by the raw emotion the actors portray.

On Thursday, however, I felt like I was watching The Prince of Tides through a new set of eyes. I still love the movie, but I felt like I had been beat up by the time the credits rolled across the screen. During the scene when the three children jumped into the water and held hands to escape the reality of their world, I found myself wanting to shout, “Stay under as long as you can! Only pain is waiting for you at the surface.” I watched the little girl’s hair floating above her head like a halo and wanted to scoop her into my arms and run away with her. I’ve often experienced that impulse since I became a mother. In my grandest delusions, I am the protector and comforter of all children. In real life, I rarely know what to say to children who’ve been hurt. I am much better with adults. But still, I wish I could protect and comfort.

As I’ve grown older, I have also grown so much less naive. I know that is usual and expected. But sometimes I long for the days when a movie about a boy’s fractured childhood was only a movie. I wish I could still believe that children are never subjected to such horrors. I wish I could say that I knew for a fact that mothers and fathers never hurt their children. I wish I could say that I know why some children are subjected to abuse at the hands of authority figures who should inspire trust. I wish I could say that such horrible, horrible acts can be left in the past and not influence those who survive every single day of their lives. I wish, I wish, I wish.

Even though The Prince of Tides was a totally different experience for me this time, it wasn’t an altogether negative one. Really, I can’t say it was negative at all. A lot of healing took place for the characters in the movie and that is a very positive thing. Because he confronted the demons from his childhood, the main character was able to love and be loved in return. He was able to return to his family and effectively step back into his role as husband and father.

I feel like I am making such a mess of explaining how I felt as the TV screen went blank. I sat and stared at the dark screen until the tape reached it’s end and a high-pitched hum broke my reverie. And, now that I think about it, I think the movie achieved it’s purpose. It made me think.

My final thoughts (for now) on the subject are that I still hate it that human beings can wound each other so deeply. I hate it that, long after wounds to the flesh have healed, the soul still bears deep scars.

But I am so very, very grateful for the healing that can take place. The human spirit is so strong. The will to keep moving through the pain, through the bad days, day after day is strong. I am grateful that, when one keeps putting one foot in front of another, sooner or later there will be as many good days as bad. And hopefully, there is a time when the good days out number the bad. I am grateful for those survivors who can acknowledge their pain and yet also acknowledge that the horrors of their past do not have to define them. I am grateful for those who still love deeply and generously despite the many times they have opened their hearts only to be hurt again.

My life has been blessed by so many lovely people who have survived things that I can’t even imagine. Many, many of my friends were hurt as children. I was a witness to much of the pain inflicted on some of them. All of them are wise beyond their years as a result. All of them are remarkable human beings. All of them are blessings in my life.