 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| PHANTOMS Burying the Dark Side |
One of the frequently viewed movies in our home is Andrew Lloyd Weber's Phantom of
the Opera. Like many 40+ people I remember that in my youth the old Lon Cheney
Phantom was a horror story used to frighten people. The modern musical version is not
only different, it served to open my eyes to some things about myself and my life. Last
night Jamie and I threw some blankets on the floor and spent one more night with Erik.
As the credits rolled and the song "Learn to be Lonely" filled our ears, this writing was
beginning to form in my head.
I am not sure how many of you have seen the musical version of Phantom. If your only
knowledge of the story is older cheap horror movies, please rent the musical, or better
yet, read the book. Instead of identifying with Raoul or Christine, just once put yourself
in the place of Erik, the Phantom. As the film progresses we find that Erik's deformity
was a birth defect, and that he was discovered in a freak show where he was billed as
"The Devil's Child." Society's hatred and disgust for his ugly face turned Erik into the
murderous, vengeful beast that he was.
That could have been me.
I have mentioned before that my own youth has paralleled that of some very notorious
serial killers. The things from their youth are what they blame for turning them into the
monsters they are. In Phantom, as Erik sings about his face, which "earned a mother's
fear and loathing, a mask, my first unfeeling bit of clothing" all I want to do is cry. To be
honest many times at this part of the film, I have. While I was not born with any physical
deformities, I was nonetheless a child whose very existence was loathed by some in the
house. When the circus master is beating the young Erik for disobedience, I hear the
snap of a leather strap-not in the film, but in my memories.
I grew up feeling just as others in our home did, hating the fact that the "Devil's Child"
had ever been born. I am sure that suicidal thoughts in an 8 year-old child are not
normal, but they were there just the same. I regretted opening my eyes every day for a
time, as the hateful looks in the eyes of some filled my heart with pain.
If I had certain feelings or thoughts they too were met with scorn and punishment. I
learned very quickly to mask certain parts of myself. Like Erik, I donned a mask to hide
the ugliness. In my case, it was the ugliness of a dark, vengeful heart. I can still
remember the very last time I lost my temper in public. I was only 14 years old but one
more night of scorn had pushed me to the edge. I assure you that only someone's
intervention at the last moment kept me from becoming a statistic in our prison system.
I learned to control my dark side from then on. I knew that if the world saw the darkness
in my heart they would put me away where no one could ever see me. To be honest,
part of me wanted that, for at least I would have been free from some of the things I was
going through.
I learned to laugh instead of lashing out. I taught myself how to use wit to shred
someone's ego, while the dark side of me wanted nothing more than to make them
suffer excruciating pain. While I have never killed another creature, even hunting, I can
tell you there were times that the raging beast inside of me wanted nothing more than to
rend the flesh off of something, anything. I learned the warning signs of a rage attack,
which I treated with medication when I needed to.
All those years that I went to different churches, I never felt at home. The thought in my
head that I was such an evil, unclean bastard (in the literal sense) made me feel
unworthy and thus there was no way God could love me. After all, if the people in my
life who were supposed to love me treated me that way, I felt there was no way God ever
could love an unclean child like myself.
Even after my accepting salvation, the dark side remained, only buried deeper. While it
was great that God loved me as I was, I still felt the loathing from others in my family.
This was only made stronger by the marriage I was in at the time. For that person only
wanted to change me. Five years into our marriage I realized that she did not love the
person I was, only the masks she forced me to wear even in our home. I was not
allowed to cry. I was not allowed to have the bi-polar disorder disrupt my thoughts. I
was not allowed to wrestle and lay to rest the ghosts of my past.
Then my children led me out of that marriage.
Then at least if I needed to pass gas while sitting in front of my television, I was allowed
to. Of course, Jamie and the kids will tell you that for a time I still begged forgiveness
when I did. At home at least, the mask started to slip off. When I did certain things that
used to be taboo and the kids were still there and so was Jamie's friendship, I was at
least comfortable maskless in my home.
Then along came Erik.
Then came many nights of dealing with the ghosts of my past. I would have one of my
rage attacks and Jamie would sit there waiting for the anger to stop spewing out of my
mouth. Her gentle smile and reassurance that she was still my friend meant so very
much. For the first time, someone close saw the anger in me and did not try to change
that nor did she run away.
I was still afraid to be weak. I was afraid that if anyone saw my tears, they would lose
respect for me. After all, in my youth tears were usually met with more cold leather.
When my health got worse last year it became harder and harder to be strong in public.
I had donned a "Superman" mask and thought that if anyone saw my weakness, I would
lose all I had worked so hard for. When Jamie held me and let me cry, the last vestiges
of the darkness were buried.
There is a moment towards the end of Phantom where everyone ends up hating Erik.
Not just his victims, but Christine and even the viewer lose all sympathy for the monster
he has become. Then out of nowhere Christine musters her courage and kisses Erik
squarely on that hideous face. At that moment, the Phantom is gone, and nothing is left
but Erik. The darkness that was his pained heart was simply washed away. While his
face was still distorted, the monster was no more.
That is what has happened to me.
One person accepted me, all of me, as I am. As my friend, Jamie saw all of the
darkness that was in my heart and the medically disfigured thing that was my body. Now
she not only accepts them, she loves them.
It is a bit odd that by embracing the darker side in me, Jamie made them a bit less dark.
The light of her embrace chased away the shadows. I used to feel unworthy of her
friendship. Now that she is sharing my life, I have never felt more worthy of anything.
Not only does someone love ALL of me, I love all of me. My temper tantrums now
consist of brief bursts of verbalization, then all anger is gone. I do not feel like an angry
monster any more.
I feel loved.
And you know what, I deserve it.
Once, as a surprise I made a Phantom mask and costume. Jamie and I have a whole
"Music of the Night" routine that we do for each other. When the night is over, the
Phantom mask goes in a drawer for the next time we want a little fun. It has been a long
time since we opened that drawer. We don't need that mask to enjoy our time together.
I, too, no longer need a mask to look at the man in the mirror. Finally, he is someone I
admire.
Be well,
Sponge
01/03/2008
the Opera. Like many 40+ people I remember that in my youth the old Lon Cheney
Phantom was a horror story used to frighten people. The modern musical version is not
only different, it served to open my eyes to some things about myself and my life. Last
night Jamie and I threw some blankets on the floor and spent one more night with Erik.
As the credits rolled and the song "Learn to be Lonely" filled our ears, this writing was
beginning to form in my head.
I am not sure how many of you have seen the musical version of Phantom. If your only
knowledge of the story is older cheap horror movies, please rent the musical, or better
yet, read the book. Instead of identifying with Raoul or Christine, just once put yourself
in the place of Erik, the Phantom. As the film progresses we find that Erik's deformity
was a birth defect, and that he was discovered in a freak show where he was billed as
"The Devil's Child." Society's hatred and disgust for his ugly face turned Erik into the
murderous, vengeful beast that he was.
That could have been me.
I have mentioned before that my own youth has paralleled that of some very notorious
serial killers. The things from their youth are what they blame for turning them into the
monsters they are. In Phantom, as Erik sings about his face, which "earned a mother's
fear and loathing, a mask, my first unfeeling bit of clothing" all I want to do is cry. To be
honest many times at this part of the film, I have. While I was not born with any physical
deformities, I was nonetheless a child whose very existence was loathed by some in the
house. When the circus master is beating the young Erik for disobedience, I hear the
snap of a leather strap-not in the film, but in my memories.
I grew up feeling just as others in our home did, hating the fact that the "Devil's Child"
had ever been born. I am sure that suicidal thoughts in an 8 year-old child are not
normal, but they were there just the same. I regretted opening my eyes every day for a
time, as the hateful looks in the eyes of some filled my heart with pain.
If I had certain feelings or thoughts they too were met with scorn and punishment. I
learned very quickly to mask certain parts of myself. Like Erik, I donned a mask to hide
the ugliness. In my case, it was the ugliness of a dark, vengeful heart. I can still
remember the very last time I lost my temper in public. I was only 14 years old but one
more night of scorn had pushed me to the edge. I assure you that only someone's
intervention at the last moment kept me from becoming a statistic in our prison system.
I learned to control my dark side from then on. I knew that if the world saw the darkness
in my heart they would put me away where no one could ever see me. To be honest,
part of me wanted that, for at least I would have been free from some of the things I was
going through.
I learned to laugh instead of lashing out. I taught myself how to use wit to shred
someone's ego, while the dark side of me wanted nothing more than to make them
suffer excruciating pain. While I have never killed another creature, even hunting, I can
tell you there were times that the raging beast inside of me wanted nothing more than to
rend the flesh off of something, anything. I learned the warning signs of a rage attack,
which I treated with medication when I needed to.
All those years that I went to different churches, I never felt at home. The thought in my
head that I was such an evil, unclean bastard (in the literal sense) made me feel
unworthy and thus there was no way God could love me. After all, if the people in my
life who were supposed to love me treated me that way, I felt there was no way God ever
could love an unclean child like myself.
Even after my accepting salvation, the dark side remained, only buried deeper. While it
was great that God loved me as I was, I still felt the loathing from others in my family.
This was only made stronger by the marriage I was in at the time. For that person only
wanted to change me. Five years into our marriage I realized that she did not love the
person I was, only the masks she forced me to wear even in our home. I was not
allowed to cry. I was not allowed to have the bi-polar disorder disrupt my thoughts. I
was not allowed to wrestle and lay to rest the ghosts of my past.
Then my children led me out of that marriage.
Then at least if I needed to pass gas while sitting in front of my television, I was allowed
to. Of course, Jamie and the kids will tell you that for a time I still begged forgiveness
when I did. At home at least, the mask started to slip off. When I did certain things that
used to be taboo and the kids were still there and so was Jamie's friendship, I was at
least comfortable maskless in my home.
Then along came Erik.
Then came many nights of dealing with the ghosts of my past. I would have one of my
rage attacks and Jamie would sit there waiting for the anger to stop spewing out of my
mouth. Her gentle smile and reassurance that she was still my friend meant so very
much. For the first time, someone close saw the anger in me and did not try to change
that nor did she run away.
I was still afraid to be weak. I was afraid that if anyone saw my tears, they would lose
respect for me. After all, in my youth tears were usually met with more cold leather.
When my health got worse last year it became harder and harder to be strong in public.
I had donned a "Superman" mask and thought that if anyone saw my weakness, I would
lose all I had worked so hard for. When Jamie held me and let me cry, the last vestiges
of the darkness were buried.
There is a moment towards the end of Phantom where everyone ends up hating Erik.
Not just his victims, but Christine and even the viewer lose all sympathy for the monster
he has become. Then out of nowhere Christine musters her courage and kisses Erik
squarely on that hideous face. At that moment, the Phantom is gone, and nothing is left
but Erik. The darkness that was his pained heart was simply washed away. While his
face was still distorted, the monster was no more.
That is what has happened to me.
One person accepted me, all of me, as I am. As my friend, Jamie saw all of the
darkness that was in my heart and the medically disfigured thing that was my body. Now
she not only accepts them, she loves them.
It is a bit odd that by embracing the darker side in me, Jamie made them a bit less dark.
The light of her embrace chased away the shadows. I used to feel unworthy of her
friendship. Now that she is sharing my life, I have never felt more worthy of anything.
Not only does someone love ALL of me, I love all of me. My temper tantrums now
consist of brief bursts of verbalization, then all anger is gone. I do not feel like an angry
monster any more.
I feel loved.
And you know what, I deserve it.
Once, as a surprise I made a Phantom mask and costume. Jamie and I have a whole
"Music of the Night" routine that we do for each other. When the night is over, the
Phantom mask goes in a drawer for the next time we want a little fun. It has been a long
time since we opened that drawer. We don't need that mask to enjoy our time together.
I, too, no longer need a mask to look at the man in the mirror. Finally, he is someone I
admire.
Be well,
Sponge
01/03/2008