Nobody puts baillee in the corner

Several people have asked me why I continue to watch The Family Stone after my mom died. 

I promise I’m not being a masochist nor am I purposely fueling my depression. 

I’ve talked about this a lot, but I’ve developed a deep emotional attachment to movies over the years that started when I was sick as a kid. 

My reward after being poked and prodded at a never-ending parade of doctor’s appointments was a trip to Blockbuster to rent a movie or a trip to Big Lots or Dollar General to buy a movie.

When I had severe insomnia as a kid, I’d stay up all night watching movies. 

I watch A Cinderella Story when I’m having problems in my love life, Halloween ‘78 when I need one good scare, and the likes of Hope Floats or Stepmom when I need to cry. 

Movies and my emotions are spliced together like a film reel. 

I continue watching The Family Stone because it makes me feel connected to KP. It was an annual rewatch for us, and it’s like she’s still sitting beside me, curled up in her blanket, telling me to turn up the TV because she can’t hear it.

I also watch The Family Stone because it makes me cry. I know how that sounds, but hear me out. I don’t let myself cry as much as I probably should, and movies help.

Truly. Movies, animal videos (especially rescue animal videos), and heartbreaking American Idol/America’s Got Talent backstories will make me bawl like nobody’s business. 

I tend to internalize and try to keep things funny and light with my friends and family, and with the help of movies, I can let things out in ways I wouldn’t normally. 

Does it seem a little dark to watch a movie where the matriarch dies of cancer? Of course. However, I promise it’s cathartic for me, and it’s helping not hurting. 

Now, if you need me, simply lift up this rock I’ve crawled under during the dinner scene.