Tonight I went and watched the movie “Inside Out”. A lot of people had told me this was a great movie, and those people were right. But it was more than just a great movie. It was permission to feel sad.
A warning: this post is a bit of a spoiler. If you haven’t seen the movie, and you think you want to (and you should, because it’s great), *and* you feel like the narrative is going to be a big part of your enjoyment, then don’t read the rest of this. This movie operates on two levels. On the one level, it’s just a really good Pixar action-adventure movie that strikes their usual balance between being kid-friendly and still being very much on an adult level. There are fun dramatic action sequences, interesting characters, a plot, a good guy, some evil forces (no real bad guy, which is one of the interesting things which we’ll get to), etc., etc. It works as a pure hollywood movie, if that’s all you want to see it as.
But on another level, it’s a pretty deep philosophical commentary. Which is noteworthy in and of itself. This is the first movie they’ve made that I honestly think everyone in the entire world should see, because it speaks to a really core part of the human experience. I guess the opening sequence of Up, dealing with aging and loss, is the closest equivalent; but this time they made that into the whole movie. What Inside Out really is, is permission to feel sad. And that’s something I needed to hear right now.
It’s hard, right now, for me to be sad. There’s a lot of reasons for this. Some of them are purely in my head, and some are not. First of all, I’m male, and men just societally are not rewarded for their emotions. Second, I’m 38, and people who are 38 are supposed to have their shit together. Third, I’m single, and as a single person, you feel like you’re constantly on stage. Nobody wants to date someone who’s depressed. Fourth, I’m a software engineer, and the child of two software engineers. I was not raised to have emotions. My emotions frightened and confused my parents. In our family, I’m basically the drama queen. Watching how sad and scared my parents would get when I felt sad, I learned to try very hard not to feel sad. Fifth, I live in San Francisco. Loss, and sadness, and regret are just not something we seem to do well in this town. SF is all about the next shiny new thing. People try very hard not to age. They build defenses against loss, primarily by just (pretending to) not give a shit about anything. We do sarcasm, disgust, fear and anger really well, but *sadness* is just not something that gets talked about a lot. There’s nothing cool about being depressed. That wasn’t true, by the way, where I grew up, in Buffalo. In Buffalo, people understand that sadness is part of a well-balanced way of life. We spend 3 or 4 months buried under snow and grey skies, so yeah, we get it. And a funny thing, too: I’ve never seen people happier than Buffalonians during those precious 3 or 4 weeks of pure summer. Everyone is out having the best time ever, because they know what’s coming. In SF, we don’t have seasons. Every day is either perfect or slightly colder then you want it to be, depending on your frame of reference. But no seasons.
So, yeah - sadness is not supposed to be on the menu. But here’s the thing: I’m fucking sad. No, I’m not depressed. I used to be depressed, but I’m really not anymore. I’m looking forward to the good things in my life that are hopefully on the horizon, and I’m energized by the things that I have in the works. But that does not mean that I am not sad. Because I am. Sometimes, I’m really sad. Some days are hard. Sometimes I feel like I don’t want to get out of bed.
I’ve spent the last 7 years bouncing from short-term relationship to short-term relationship. I’ve told 4 or 5 people that I loved them, only to have that loved rejected or ignored. When I look back at Christmases and New Years, I’m mostly in the frame alone. Almost every fun thing I’ve done over the last 7 years, I did with someone who’s no longer here to talk about it with. And that makes me sad. Really sad. I’m someone who likes to form deep relationships, but the people around me have mostly rejected that. I’m 38 years old, and my best friends are still those I made a long time ago, people I never get to see. When I wake up in the morning, I have nobody there with me, and yeah, that makes me really sad. And the more I push that down, the more I pretend it doesn’t bother me, well, the worse it gets. I need permission to be sad - usefully sad - about that. Because, like the movie shows us, every emotion has a purpose. Fear keeps us safe. Disgust keeps us from getting poisoned. Anger gives us the strength to confront injustice. And sadness is important too. First, it’s important as a foil to happiness. Things that are bittersweet are often the sweetest things of all. There is no doubt in my mind that, when I finally do make a long life partner, I will treasure that person, and the happiness they bring. The sadness deepens my resolve to enjoy the good moments in life. It’s taught me to slow down, take things one at a time, and really embody them. I used to race from thing to thing because I never valued the happiness that was right in front of me. Now I do, because I know what loss feels like.
But also, just like fear, I think sadness motivates us. I need to not live in San Francisco. I need to not have shallow people in my life. I need to spend my time outdoors, staying fit, smelling the fresh air, enjoying the world around me. Not trapped at a computer, or drinking at bars. I have a really good grasp now on what makes me happy and what makes me sad, and I need to move my life towards those things I enjoy. Not the things that make me money, or that other people tell me I should do, but the stuff that really is *me*. And it’s sadness that taught me that.
But make no mistake about it: being sad fucking sucks. And I’ve had enough for now. I’ve had enough in the last 7 years. My sadness meter is full. It serves a useful purpose, but it’s time to move on. Letting the sad flow through me ensures that I don’t wallow in it, or relive it over and over. And I won’t; I’ll fix this. And when I do, it will be all the sweeter.