I Crave Fairytales

For many, it is time to re-parent your inner child. When considering Bedtime Stories for this writing competition, I took, frankly, more than a moment to revel in the nostalgia of the bedtime routine. Do you remember the safety of it? Of being held and read to. Just for it to one day, without even noticing, stop.

There is so much emotional and cultural merit in the stories that we choose to share with our children. There is no time more vulnerable than when we are asleep. The trust a child has in their guardian to not only keep them safe, but to act as sage in their life is one that should never be broken. The positive reinforcement of a cuddle and a tale cements the morals of these stories so deep in our minds that they occasionally become the basis of a personality.

Personally, I was always the child who identified with the outsider archetype. I loved Stellaluna, Curious George, and Amelia Bedelia. They all struggled to understand the world around them, as I did. They all tried their hardest & did their best to make up for their mistakes, even if they still made a mess. I made and make so many messes everyday that it feels as though I’ll never be able to clean them all up.

The fervor of this kinship didn’t waver when the outsider was not framed as the main character. I also carried empathy for the snake in eden, the minotaur in the maze, medusa & her statues, and both little red & the wolf. The snake was trying to show Eve the truth by offering her fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. The minotaur was rejected by his father, & forced to live a life away from all human contact. Medusa was a hurt & scared priestess of Athena before she was ever a monster, or trophy of Perseus. Little Red was disobedient, because she wasn’t given a clear reason to stay away from the flowers. The Wolf was just hungry- there was no malice in his feast. I would always proclaim that what was done was not fair. Usually the storyteller would frown & try to pick up the tale once again. This always gave me the sense that I wasn’t listening correctly. That I wasn’t picking up the messages from these stories that I should have.

When I look at my routine as a Young Adult (22 in January ’21) I find that in some ways I have out-sourced bedtime stories to Netflix, HULU, Podcasts, & Disney Plus. I cuddle up in my pjs, cast the show onto my tv screen, & watch the tale come to life— spellbound. Social media, the news, and critics tell me that I am not the only one. People never stop craving the connection to community that fiction provide. We are all just looking for someone somewhat like us to provide insight on How To Do Life in these more “advanced” years.

Existence would probably be easier as one of twelve girls, in two straight lines. To always be smiling at the good, and frowning at the bad. But Dogma (living in black and white) does not make you Madeline.

And, truthfully, in my rush to grow up & have a voice that will be listened to, I have realized that I lost touch with my reason to speak. It is so very easy to be complacent. To scroll through stories with no clear moral or ending. It is equally easy to believe whatever the most current point of view on your feed is.

Don’t forget that the inner-child, the You of your childhood memories, still lives inside. With his or her sense of justice & creativity. They don’t go away because your body gets bigger, and your frontal lobe develops more. To live in a dissociated state is as effortless as slumber. To live half-human without negative emotions, at a cost to happiness, is almost praised from one adult to the next. People don’t grow thicker skin, they just grow numb to the same abuses poking them over and over again.

So, if you think you are living for nostalgic remedies, maybe instead your inner child is calling out for something different: re-parenting. Let your inner-adult be parent to your younger self. Be a kid when you can, because nobody else has the right to tell you to put away childish things. Go to amusement parks to experience the rush of wind and clouds of cotton candy. Ask someone to be your friend as plainly as first grade. Do bedtime stories over again, with heated & weighted blankets. But this time, do it all with the knowledge and assuredness in yourself to keep true to the empathy & moral standards you have set for yourself, that perhaps you first learned in children’s book.

Most importantly, carry on in the world with grace in the knowledge that everyone else still has a child inside too. We are all outsiders, and main characters, who make mistakes & try our best to make up for them. Perhaps, every now and again, we can take a turn sharing our favorite stories.