Catharsis

I absolutely loved the honesty in this post. Thank you!

I cry all the time, so I don’t have that particular situation – but his beautiful post made me think of my obsessions that come over me from time to time about certain actors (ahem, ahem, ahem) … and how often those obsessions are harbingers of something else going on, something I am yearning to express, but can’t … indicators of loneliness, perhaps … the fierceness of love that doesn’t exist in my life … it’s like I am able to revert, when the obsessions are at their height – revert to a time when I could love like that with no fear, when I could just throw myself into the experience (or, to quote Ann Marie: “I will propel myself into the blazing star”) – and there have been dark months (I have written about this before) when whatever obsession is going on has acted almost as a protective shield – or, no, that’s not right. Let me put it another way.

The fall of 2007 was not easy for me. I walked around in psychic pain. But, running parallel to all of that, was my Dean Stockwell fantasia … and in some way, it acted as a storage unit, that’s more like it … where I could protect the delicate open sensitive side of me – for safe keeping, when I might need it in the future. Everything else in me was exposed – raw, flayed nerves, waking up with a heavy heart, everything a trial. And make no mistake: things can be killed. For good. Things like hope, optimism, softness, joy. Those things are not to be taken for granted because I have met people in whom those things appear to have been killed forever. I couldn’t just walk through the world, though, exposing my hope, optimism, joy … well, first of all, because I couldn’t find my way to them anyway. They were in hiding. They did not exist, as far as I was concerned. But as I watched every movie Dean Stockwell made, as I traveled to New Mexico to meet the man … it was like I was taking huge chunks of myself, parts that I wanted to protect, and hiding them away … knowing they would be safe where they were, for the time-being. I suppose if you have never had such an experience – this all might sound rather odd. And maybe even stalker fan-girl stuff. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about something else. Catharsis. And the possibility thereof. Life is tough. I am in a struggle right now to just keep going, to not be submerged. And these movie-actor obsessions that sweep over me – usually once a year – have a way of safeguarding the precious, the sacred … I am not fully conscious of the process, as in, I don’t say to myself, “Hey, life is tough right now … I think I’m long overdue for an obsession with an actor!” No. It always hits me unawares and it always hits me when I need it the most (looking back on it). Sometimes I can even mark a year by its obsession. “Oh, that was my Jeff Bridges year. I remember that.” I’ve been doing this for years. Obviously it fills a deep deep void in me – and sometimes people get embarrassed for me (it’s happened on the blog) – but not usually, because it seems that what I do is something that most of us do – to some degree, about something. If not about actors, then something else. Authors, motorcycles, classical music, military history, whatever. I am not sure what other obsessives think about what they are doing, but for me – it keeps things alive when the going gets rough. It’s a way to hunker down. Again, none of this is conscious. I don’t scream at myself, “Batten down the hatches! Storm a-blowin’! Take Hope, Joy and Optimism and hide them below decks – NOW!” No, it’s more organic than that. Like the blogger above says – it serves a need – obviously a deep need. Something to think about, perhaps, when the storm passes.

And so I have Ralph Macchio, Harrison Ford, Sting, John Stamos (as Blackie Parrish on General Hospital, primarily), James Dean, Matthew Broderick, Mickey Rourke, Jeff Bridges, Ewan McGregor, Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant, Gary Cooper, Dean Stockwell … to thank, for helping me keep essential things not only safe, but alive. For when the storm passes. It’s worked every time. There’s always a bit of sadness in the obsessions, because I recognize what it is that I am missing … what I have always missed, come to think of it … but that’s okay. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s got to do.

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