After Seeing “Fun Home”

I’ve wanted to see the Broadway musical Fun Home for ages. Based on the best-selling graphic memoir by Alison Bechdel, Fun Home is narrated by a young girl named Alison at three different ages. We watch as she grows up in a dysfunctional family. Her father is also a central figure in her story. I observed their interactions, remembering instances wherein I too ignored the real issue. Instead, I shut down part of my humanity, the part that reacts and lets me feel something.

So I’m sitting there, watching the story play out. Toward the end, Alison’s mother talks about how she “wasted her days.” Instead of confronting the hard stuff in her life, she buried it in carpools, cleaning and her children.

I’m no stranger to this sort of living; it’s what we all do. I’ve read two of Brené Brown’s books, listened to her TED Talks and heard countless interviews that confirm how we all bury what hurts us. I understand the mother’s choice. I know that it’s normal to hide the parts of ourselves we are ashamed of in tasks. It’s what we do, because staying busy and blind is easier than actually dealing with the real shit.

Confrontation is hard. We avoid it, we compromise to a point that it’s detrimental to ourselves. We lie and get good at it, comfortable living without truth.

I typed this into my iPhone’s notepad after the show. While it’s more of a stream of consciousness, I wanted to share it because it’s honest… and something that will perhaps hold me accountable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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