I had it all planned out. The happy ending. Tears of joy and the final inspirational moment that made everything that came before it worthwhile. The outcome that made sense out of the suffering. Yes, my movie started sad. It started bad. Maybe it wasn’t the worst beginning, but it wasn’t going to becomes the kind of movie people would want to watch. Or acknowledge as being real. It was filled with rejection, physical and sexual abuse, anger, fear, terror and pain.
The beginning sucked. It was a sad beginning.
A sad beginning…that’s one thing. But a sad ending?
No, the movie has to end well. Otherwise, it’s not worth watching. Otherwise, It’s not worth living. Certainly not worth sharing with anyone. Certainly something that should remain hidden. Forever.
Nobody likes a sad movie. Not even me…
Unfortunately, my movie is sad through and through. And all attempts I’ve made at writing a Hollywood ending have resulted in failure.
I expected to be able to rewrite my future, thus freeing myself from my past.
I wanted to end up in a different life. In a life filled with love and acceptance. A life with connections and meaning. A life in a warm place by a beach (okay, that was a big stretch, but that’s always been my dream). A life where I am wanted (even bigger stretch). Where there is a lot of love and real and deep connections. Where I can be who I am without hiding, even though I’m imperfect and flawed.
I wanted to end up being a different person. A person who overcame all the bad beginnings and who transcended the hurt and brokenness.
I wanted the movie of my life to be one that made people stand up and cheer when they reached the final scene, even while the tears rolled down their cheeks.
I wanted the movie of my life to have meaning. Purpose. I wanted to leave behind something that would last.
Instead, my movie is and has always been nothing more than a sad, pathetic, depressing movie. A movie that will vanish the moment I die.
There’s no happy ending. No great love that redeems me and sets me free. I was broken as a child and I remain broken into old age. Broken and hopeless. There isn’t a shred of inspiration to be found. Only regret and revulsion. Revulsion because I’m not an inspiration. Not an overcomer. I’m more of a cautionary tale. “Don’t walk this path.” “Don’t be this person.” “Don’t go this direction.” “Don’t. Become. Me.”
I knew my movie would be a drama rather than a comedy or a beautiful romance. I knew it would involve a depressing amount of sadness. But I expected there to be a certain amount of romance, redemption and restoration. Happiness. Love.
I expected my life to have value. To be worthwhile.
So, I tried to rewrite the ending to my movie. I tried to persevere and overcome. But that Hollywood ending…it never happened. And now, I think, I fear, it’s too late.
It seems as if the production of my life’s story is doomed to be nothing more than a sad movie. With a sad, uninspiring ending. So I will leave nothing of value behind. I will not accomplish my goal of making the world a better place. I will not find redemption. Or healing. Which is the saddest part of my tale. The saddest part of all.
I’m nothing but a sad movie.