Ah yes, that wonderful Disney movie that little girls everywhere have memorized and that has cemented the Oscar-winning song in our heads. (Are you singing it already?)
Well, Frozen reminds me of addiction. And I’m not talking about the trap of addiction this movie has on your eight-year-old daughter.
If you’ve seen Frozen or know the storyline, did you resonate at all with the Snow Queen, Elsa?
I know I did.
Frozen by trauma
Elsa has one traumatic experience after another. Her sister almost dies and even though it’s an accident, it’s her fault. How does she cope? With her parents’ guidance, she isolates herself and lives in fear of her inability to control her power. She won’t let her sister in, afraid that she might hurt her again. She responds, “Go away, Anna,” to the one who is lovingly pleading for companionship.
Then her parents, the only people that know about her powers, the only people she lets in to her life, die unexpectedly. Again, she copes in isolation and fear. (And to Anna’s detriment, who becomes oh-so desperate for love.)
When Elsa comes out of her room for her coronation, the town freaks out about her display of power. They don’t understand it, and now she will isolate herself even more in a place where she will let it all go (sorry, couldn’t help it).
She is frozen. She scared. And now, she’s fleeing and later fighting. She doesn’t realize that her actions affect everyone else around her.
Elsa knows she needs help, but doesn’t know where to turn. Her moment of clarity finally comes when she loses something very dear to her—her sister, Anna.
Trapped in addiction
“Let it go,” aka “f the world,” really speaks to the way I used to (and sometimes still can) feel about life, and the way I grew up.
It’s the perfect teenage cliche. Little punk me sitting alone in my room listening to “Adam’s Song” on repeat.
When you’re fifteen, no one understands you (especially if you’re a late bloomer that hasn’t bloomed yet). And every person over the age of thirty somehow forgot what it was like to be fifteen. That’s why, in addition to my love for Mark Hoppus and Tom DeLonge, I developed a love for my mom’s little white pain pills.
Like Elsa, I had a well-meaning mom who was just looking out for me. I couldn’t help but think the rest of the world (including my mom) didn’t have a clue about how I felt.
That f-the-world-no-one-understands-me mentality followed me well into adulthood.
The trolls said love thaws a frozen heart. Thankfully I had an Anna in my life (my mom) who wasn’t afraid to step in with some crazy acts of true love (which is tough love, I might add) to start the thaw in me.
How about you? What did it take to thaw your frozen heart?