I am often asked what it is that I love about Disneyland. Why I can be found there three or four times a month? What can I possibly still get out of a trip to the original Magic Kingdom after twelve consecutive years?
My typical answer was always “to recapture those magical feelings I experienced in my childhood. To leave the real world behind and bask in the innocence of childlike wonder the Park offers.”
Until today. Today I discovered an expansion of that answer. Let’s back up a little bit.
I’ve been doing a book study with my friends. The book we are reading and sharing our experience about is called The Gifts of Imperfection. Written by Brene Brown, originally published in 2010, its delves into the shame research she’s been doing for over twenty years, sharing her insights and helping people from all walks of life embrace who they are, rather than trying to be someone they thought they were suppose to be to fit in and be accepted by their family, friends and co-workers. It’s a fascinating book I recommend highly if your interested in a continuing education of the personal growth kind.
I just finished the book this morning, and one of the main themes is the difference between the feeling of belonging and the act of fitting in.
As a parent, I am guilty of telling my children to do what they love and be who they want to be while secretly hoping and wishing they’d live their lives the way I think would benefit them best. I was raised with similar parenting – be who you are as long as it fits in with our ideals. I was often told I was too loud, or to calm down, or to partake in activities that I was not interested (never enjoyed playing basketball with my mom because it wasn’t fun, it was REAL sports). I passed that along to my children. I wanted them to fit in, to get along, to make me look good. Because I didn’t feel like belonging, being who they were, was okay. Because it wasn’t modeled to me.
As an adult whose done a ton of personal development work (inner child, re-parenting, digging deep, uncovering stuff, examining, discarding old ideas and behaviors that don’t work for me anymore) I’ve discovered that when I’m at Disneyland, I belong. I feel safe there, to be myself. I can dress how I want and eat what I want and do everything, or do nothing. Where else can you sing-along to the piped Disney music or dance like nobody’s watching in a crowd of people who are also singing along and/or dancing, or interact with one of your Disney icons as if they were real? Not many places.
When I was a kid, I watched a lot of musicals. Some of my favorites included Easter Parade, Singin’ in the Rain, Anchors Aweigh and West Side Story. I was fascinated that all the people in the movie knew the dance moves and all the words when the lead characters broke into song and dance. I didn’t know where the music came from, but I wanted to live in those towns. (I was 7 or 8 years old).
Try that sometime. Walking in the mall, a song you know starts playing, and you start belting out the words, dancing your heart out. Security may have a thing or two to say. Maybe not. Maybe you end up on a viral video. It could happen I suppose. At Disneyland, it happens on a regular basis, in small groups, and especially during the parades. I can relax and let my ME flag fly. And each time I leave the Park at the end of a day, feeling a little less stressed and filled with quiet joy, I am confident that I can carry some of those self-acceptance feelings back out into the real world, being my Self just a little bit more.
That’s all I’ve got for now. Maybe I’ll see you at the Park and we can sing a duet or help Dr. Strange defeat a mystical creature.
My husband bought me a Lego Creator kit for a 1967 Mustang. This kit has over 1,400 bricks and pieces, and the completed model will be 13.5 inches long and 5.5 inches wide. The instruction manual has 195 pages for the basic design and about 20 more pages to the super charger engine. Challenging, right?
snapshots of everything 