Surface Pressure That Just Won't Stop

Disney Has Changed The Way They Make Me Cry

As a child, I cried over the death of Bambi's mom. I hyperventilated in fear as a 5-year-old watching Snow White for the first time, and she ran screaming through the dark forest after the huntsmen tried to take her heart. I cried when the curse was broken for the Beast and he discovered love. When Dumbo was abused and mistreated and separated from his mother I sobbed. I forced myself to watch it until the end (I am a childhood abuse survivor, this movie was very triggering for me in a lot of ways) and found relief in the ending. But I refuse ever to watch it again - and I haven't shown my daughters that movie OR Pinocchio. I know those movies would trigger me to this day.

In my adulthood, Disney has gone from making tragic stories of death and love to stories of growth and inspiration.

As times have changed, and so have the norms of human behavior and the general consensus of 'right' and 'wrong' has evolved, Disney has tried to change with it. The actions of trying to please the world have brought them much more backlash than love, but as a childhood devoted fan, I am more forgiving than a lot of 'cancel-culture' babies (yuck).

Despite my displeasure at the recent actions on the retelling of Snow White and the ...stupidity around all of that... along with other scandals, I will always be one of the first to watch a new Disney movie. I don't love them all, but admittedly, I love most of them, and I love the new messages of strength, hope, acceptance, and unity that Disney has been trying to touch on. Rather than focus on tragedy anymore, I feel like the MAIN Disney company has not let go of the original Walt Disney Dream: Creating things that inspire the new generations.

And I'll never, EVER forget how I felt watching Encanto for the first time.

During the introduction, when Abuela is telling Mirabel the story of the Madrigals, and shows her little self walking up to the door to receive her gift I looked at my family and said: If she doesn't get her gift, I'm out. I was frustrated that I was right when the end of the first song came to an end and a casual revelation of Mirabel's powerless self. I was mostly frustrated because I knew my overactive imagination was going to already be relating to this character, and her powerlessness.

While Mirabel walks around with a smile, being supportive, keeping her feeling of worthlessness at bay, all while at the same time suffering judgment and belittlement from some of her family members, I couldn't help but walk in her shoes from my own life - relating to her situation to some things I had also experienced with my abusive partners before I ignited and rose from my ashes.

And then Luisa, her older sister confided in her when Mirabel was blindly walking around, trying to solve the issue of the Miracle so that she could somehow prove to her family that she wasn't less than the rest of them. Luisa began her song, and I was excited to see this side character get a spotlight for a moment. The first verse brags about her physical strength, but then it took a surprising turn for me:

I move mountains, I move churches // And I glow, 'cause I know what my worth is//... I don't ask how hard the work is // I take what I'm handed, I break what's demanded.

But under the surface, I feel berserk as a tightrope walker in a three-ring circus... // Under the surface, was Hercules ever like, "Yo, I don't wanna fight Cerberus?" // Under the surface, I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service. // ... what breaks the camel's back?

...Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip 'til you just go pop, whoa, oh, oh //Give it to your sister, your sister's older // Give her all the heavy things we can't shoulder // ...If I fall to

Pressure like a grip, grip, grip, and it won't let go, whoa // Pressure like a tick, tick, tick 'til it's ready to blow, whoa, oh, oh // Give it to your sister, your sister's stronger // See if she can hang on a little longer

Who am I if I can't carry it all?

If I falter ?

By the end of the first chorus, I couldn't breathe.

Tears burned my eyes. My chest heaved as I put my hand over my mouth to try and keep myself unnoticed in the dark room where my fiance, Bubba, and my treasured soul sister were watching the movie with me (we pre-screen new movies we contemplate showing the children).

Memories of the process of being parentized as a child ran through me. The stress of being responsible for my maternal siblings at a very young age affected me. I forgot how to play pretend at a young age, trying to balance school, taking care of my brother and sister for mom while she worked, and doing house chores that I knew mom needed help with.

Mom didn't find a decent man to be our father figure until we were already adults. I wouldn't say my mom ever grew from the abuse that she suffered at the hands of my grandmother or the abandonment issues she developed from her father (Grandma told mom he got crushed by a horse and left him while he was out of town for work. Grandpa didn't really ever bother trying to find her... so... it's a sad story). Nor did she ever get any help for herself as an adult for the abusive relationships she put herself through because of her childhood modeling. So mom dated jobless losers who didn't know how to take care of kids or clean.

All the slack mom had from working 2 or 3 jobs my entire life to support us fell on me. She often praised me, telling me I was such a 'good mommy' to my siblings when they needed me. She told me I would be an amazing mother one day. I began working as a child to keep up the expectations that had naturally fallen on me to be better, to be the best kid, to be the best most helpful child that ever existed. My dependency fed this thought process, and my mom was too emotionally/mentally fucked up to recognize that my mental health wasn't quite right either.

When he was an infant, and mom didn't get her maternity leave she left us in the care of a grandmotherly woman. WHen he would cry, she would hit him. I also noticed her crushing up medicine and putting it in his bottles. I was 4 years old, when, according to my mother: "I saved my brother's life."

The woman was putting her vicadine in his bottles to make him sleep, so he wouldn't cry.

I told my mom about it, on one of her days off. That's how that woman got arrested. Blood tests showed the medicine, along with other medicines in my brother's system. Mom's trauma of this woman trying to murder my brother slowly was to become extremely dependent on me to watch over him, only feeling like he was safe if I was in the same room with him too.

"You keep him so safe. I know he will be okay, as long as you watch over him."

That kind of pressure made me feel extremely protective of him, and as we grew up and older, I lost sight of being his older sister and his "substitute parent and protector" - and I became controlling over his behavior. Especially since he was prone to making very stupid decisions, and was attracted to the WORST types of predatory women.

Under the surface, I hide my nerves and it worsens, I worry something is gonna hurt us // Under the surface, the ship doesn't swerve, has it heard how big the iceberg is? // Under the surface, I think about my purpose, can I somehow preserve this? //Line up the dominoes, a light wind blows // You try to stop it tumbling, but on and on, it goes

But wait, if I could shake the crushing weight of expectations // Would that free some room up for joy or relaxation, or simple pleasure? //Instead, we measure this growing pressure // Keeps growing... // 'Cause all we know is ... Pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop...

That pressure of being parentized has followed me and my family into my adulthood.

When my sister's husband wanted to try to get into the military, none of them seemed to have the ability to just... get it done. Same with my dad.

Dad (adopted dad, married my mother) had a very abusive childhood, devoid of support or nurture. He's a little older than me (thankfully), but he still doesn't know how to human well. Phone calls, taking care of mom in her dementia state, executive decisions about his household.

It falls to me. I had to be on the phone for hours at a time for a week to get my brother-in-law's criminal records straightened out so he could join. And my dad's identification. He was born in a military base overseas in the UK that doesn't exist anymore. Being born an American on foreign soil is complicated and the records were deep, deep, and hard to find. It was me that made that happen. Both of them repaid my efforts by giving up and dropping out of boot camp before graduating.

They had their reasons - but fuck my time, and frustration, and the fact that I literally had to fight the Government on multiple levels on their behalf for days and hours at a time, right?

I've always had to hold a burden for someone - because I was the oldest sibling, the most capable, the one who "gets it done."

This song helped me lay that burden down.

My brother and sister grew up to be...disappointing. My brother was an alcoholic for a while and then cut the entire family out of his life while he was still in his 20's. He made some bad choices, hates himself, and has suffered a lot - modeling the behaviors we learned and attracting predatory abusive women. He's suffered a lot, but now his life is better - hopefully. He's married, and I hope he's truly happy - because he wouldn't tell me otherwise even if he wasn't.

And my younger sister... well she's an entire article in herself. Aside from having a kid raise her, when she did go to her father... well he is a covert narcissist. And to those who know what it's like growing up with cover narcissists you know they have their reasons for being broken. And still yet the blame lies on me. Because I was supposed to be the one stepping up for mom, because she had to work so much to support us. No one actually blames me for my sibling's shitty lives and life choices but me. But it's still there.

The pressure.

Who am I if I don't have what it takes?

No cracks, no breaks

No mistakes,

JUST pressure

They had to pause the movie and turn on the light. By the last line of the last verse, I was sobbing helplessly into my hands, shattered and undone by this simple stupid Disney movie song.

When I recovered, I had some explaining to do to my family - who were all looking at me as if they weren't sure if they should hug me or just let me cry it out. At the time, I wasn't sure why I had broken that way over this song. I've had a little over a year to think about it now. It makes sense. I know that I am not the only person who has had this feeling of pressure from their family.

Unfortunately, generational abuse is unintentional most of the time.

We aren't made to have that much pressure when our brains are not fully developed. As Luisa Madrigal sings of her constant pressure to be strong and flawless, the feeling of healing came over me as she and Mirabel had a moment. I think the moment the dam really broke was when Mirabel said: "You can't keep trying so hard, Luisa. You're not supposed to carry everything."

I think the moment the dam broke and I wasn't able to hold it back was when Mirabel said: "You can't keep trying so hard, Luisa. You're not supposed to carry everything."

It was like Walt Disney came down from heaven, put his hand on my shoulder, and whispered in my ear these words that my inner child needed to hear so desperately. What I didn't realize my inner child needed to hear.

At the end of the day, that song empowers me still. Now that I've had time to digest this trauma that I didn't even know I had until I heard this song. I wouldn't take back anything, to this day from what I have experienced. Because if not me then who and when would that cycle have been broken?

Someone had to do the things I tried to step-up to as a kid, and there was no one else in sight who would protect and take care of my siblings. It was up to me. My job was to keep them safe. It shouldn't have had to have been my job. But it was.

I am a good mother now, and I understand so much more now. I am raising my children with much attentiveness to the things that were neglected in my childhood. This pressure has led me to break my cycle of generational abuse. I pray for my brother's child, I pray on the days my mother's dementia make her trauma the only thing she can remember, and I pray for my siblings.

No matter how much I love them I can't fix what has happened or change the past. And there are some things that I need to do in the future that are hard, and will probably cause a great divide. But I can hope that from here on they continue to heal and grow. No matter how broken our family will always be, because there is no healing in some things, I still hope that they or their children are strong enough to break the cycle as I have done with my little brood.

My younger sister, a few weeks after I watched this movie, validated me. 

We were talking over the phone, and the topic came up of Disney movies and our favorites. 

"Hey, have you seen Encanto?" She asked when it came up. I confirmed that I had. "You know… Luisa? Mirabel's older sister?" 

Again I confirmed that I had, though I did not tell her how I had broken down when I watched that sequence. 

"The first time I watched that movie, all I could think of was you when she sang her song. About how everything has always been handed to you. How you tried so hard and how you had to basically raise us. How you protected us. How you were always there for us, fighting our battles, protecting us from Mom if we ever did anything wrong. Doing all the difficult work and helping everyone achieve their goals and then you being left behind or taken advantage of. It shouldn't have had to have been you. But… thank you, for being so strong. And I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time when we were kids. But, Mirabel was right. You shouldn't have to carry everything, okay? Just remember that for me." 

I thanked her, admittedly with tears in my eyes, and my heart wrenching, fighting back the urge to break again. No matter what happens, I know for sure my sister at least sees what I went through as a kid, to try and be there for her. I love her, deep down. A lot has happened in our lives, and I feel like the time for healing together as a family is a ship that has sailed. 

But she acknowledged me. And that healed so much for me. Not that I know what to do with that. But that was everything for me at that time.

And Thank You Disney, For Putting Out Movies That Highlight Generational/Family Trauma And How It Can Affect A Whole Family.

The world needed it. I hope it becomes an icon for families that take the effort to heal as a family...together.

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