I had an odd epiphany the other day in which I realized that I am, in fact, my favorite Disney Princess. Cinderella has always been my favorite princess. I gravitate towards her in every iteration. But it dawned on me recently that I probably love her so much because I relate to her in many ways.
Cinderella was raised by a step-parent who always put their own kids high above her; a step-parent who, despite Cinderella doing everything she was told to do perfectly down to the finest detail, never thought she did anything right. A step-parent who only acknowledged Cinderella's value when it benefited them and their image.
I am Cinderella. Her step-parent is my step-parent. Her struggles to be accepted for real and not show are my struggles. The striving to do perfectly even though you know it will never be good enough…that’s me, or at least it was until a few years ago.
My prince charming didn’t whisk me away to a castle, but he did help to build a home where I am able to breathe and feel loved. He helped create a space where I could find an amazing therapist that helped me to think, heal, and feel the validation that I deserve to have after 30 years of being told that I was ungrateful and couldn’t do anything right, even when I did what I was told down to the letter.
Just as I have been able to heal my wounds and feel loved and valued enough that I am happy and confident in my choices, I like to think that Cinderella was able to find that too. I like to think that her Happily Ever After was filled with breaking generational cycles of the negative household she grew up in. I think she would be the one to acknowledge the birthdays and life events of the castle servants because she knows how overlooked they can be. And I think she would have raised children who knew they were loved and valued, even in their mistakes.
I don’t have a castle, and Cinderella may not have a therapist, but I think that if moving away and building a new life worked for me, then it probably worked for her too.
No comments:
Post a Comment