This is a revised re-post. It’s was a therapeutic, free association that is too difficult for me to shorten…
September 8, 2020…When I saw that “Cobra Kai” was the #1 watched series on Netflix, my mouth dropped open. I started trembling. I assume this reaction was due to a level of euphoria that I have not been able to publicly get in touch with since 1986. It was an intoxicating feeling of true belonging, like “I am not that big of a weirdo” after all. Other people in this world are clearly are obsessed with Karate Kid as well.
My siblings and I can quote The Karate Kid pretty much word for word. I’m sure people who have witnessed us in “Karate Kid (“KK quote mode”) must have thought, “Jeez, how many times have you watched this.” Daniel Larusso’s self-righteous anger & Johnny Lawrence with his gleaming, blonde, visor haircut never gets old.
“Belonging is the innate human desire to be part of something larger than us. Because this yearning is so primal, we often try to acquire it by fitting in and by seeking approval.”
Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection
Over the years, there has been brief moments where I’ve had the courage to be my authentic-KK-loving self. This was usually brought on, subconsciously, by enough alcohol that could kill a small child. Some may get white girl wasted, but I prefer to say Mr. Miyagi wasted.
This first incident was released by liquid courage, not true courage. I was 21ish, enjoying the last few hours of the weekend at Reilly’s Daughter. As Cruel Summer by Banana Rama began blaring, one of my sloppy, drunk, guy friends slurred these words to me “Hey! The Karate Kid song!” Omg. Suddenly, there was something there between us that wasn’t there before.
As he was clumsily swaying back and forth to the song, holding a pitcher of Lemovox in one hand, a full cup with a cigarette in the other; he stepped out of the friend zone and he became strangely attractive. I was captivated by his lack of rhythm and impeccable hand-eye coordination. I was entranced and ready to make out with him in the middle of the bar; kinda like how Daniel nearly swallowed Ali at Golf ‘n Stuff.
By the grace of God, he slipped and wiped out on the perpetually sticky and damp, bar floor. The pitcher of lemovox spilled all over his clothes, hair and eyes. He stumbled to get up, screeching that the cheap, acidic combo was burning his eyes.
The laughter of all the guys combined with his fall, broke the lemovox induced spell.
Anyways, it was a close call. This was my first indication that my private obsession with Karate Kid could potentially become a big problem. If I acted on my irrational impulses, it would have been, literally, a cruel summer for me. My friends would’ve ripped me apart for the next six months; perhaps years. I made sure to keep this side of me repressed in the future.
The second time, the obsession re-surfaced during an emotionally vulnerable time. I was married for two years and had my first baby. The newness of having a newborn had run its course. The financial pressure of adulting with a mortgage and unpaid maternity leave left me no choice but to be back at work in 10 weeks.
I had just stopped breastfeeding/pumping and the hormonal-fluctuations resulted in giant eruptions on my chin. My body…that awful in-between phase of maternity clothes and regular clothes. Nothing fit right and I felt uncomfortable, bloated, and fugly. My wardrobe consisted of stained tops and a choice of either cameltoe khakis or muffin-top black pants. I wanted to hide.
All this combined with running on 3 hours of sleep and the fluorescent lighting of the emergency room where I worked; left me feeling real attractive.
To make matters worse, my husband and I were working opposite schedules to be home with our son. We slowly became disconnected, sleep-deprived roommates.
Meanwhile, a single, energetic, childless guy started training in our department who was extremely witty and funny. I was shadowing this guy to make sure he was performing the psychological assessments correct. The patient we were evaluating lived in Reseda, Illinois. The guy says to me:
“I never heard of Reseda Illinois. I thought it was in LA. I only know that because of Karate Kid. “Oh you have a date? With whoommm? Not that boy from Reseda.”
My eyes widened and without thinking I replied, “Yeah Dad, he’s from Reseda.” Then I nervously laughed, blushed, & started to sweat.
Suddenly, my KK repressed self was unleashed. I could not stop. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed like this or felt so alive. We continued this banter the rest of the evening; driving my other co-workers nuts. Walking to my car that night, physically exhausted, but mentally, I am was in the best mood. I felt like “me” again.
At the time, I thought he put me in the best mood, but in reality, he just made me feel comfortable to be myself without pretending.
Sometimes joking isn’t about making fun of someone, it’s about making fun of a situation to disconnect ourselves from whatever uncomfortable emotion it creates in us.
Brené Brown
Braving the Wilderness
This guy had the ability to connect with anyone, he had everyone laughing. However, I started getting jealous, wanting his attention. (Don’t judge me, when you’re dying of thirst in the desert, you don’t care who gives you the water.)
However, since I had not felt this type of connection in so long, I continued to make awkward attempts to keep it alive. Thankfully I got the hint eventually and knocked it off.
In hindsight, I did not recognize how disconnected I was from myself, my values and my pain. This having-babies-rite-of passage is a huge adjustment. The more I tried to “pretend” I had it all together to avoid feeling the shame; the more I kept myself in this vicious cycle. Kinda like Daniel LaRusso, who likes to blame the school, his bike, his mom, and moving to LA on his current situation.
Most recently, this movie came up again last year when my son went on his first date. At the time, I didn’t realize it was a first date because my son kept saying they were “just friends”. When I picked her up, I witnessed how the two of them were interacting… Unfortunately, this revelation unfolded in slow motion in my brain; …omg my son is…a GUY.
Flashbacks of my son and I holding hands, snuggling on the couch began to flash before my eyes. My little boy is gone. In the middle of this bittersweet epiphany, the girl’s dad came to the car door to meet me. I behaved like a complete fool, a total awkward nerd. I turned into Lucille LaRusso and I had no control.
Lucille was a damn good mom.
Anyways, I have accepted my siblings and myself are weirdos. I love this about us.
In our defense, we have a good reason. Our memorization of KK wasn’t a typical situation. The Karate Kid was part of our daily routine.
You see, our brother, was non-verbal and wheelchair bound. After he got home from school, there was not much he could do but watch or listen to TV. So this movie was playing continuously in the background. My youngest sister would sit in her playpen eating melba toast and my brother would lay on floor and they would watch this movie (and The Muppets) together almost everyday. It was so cute that we would sit with both of them and watch it, again.
Despite our age difference, this movie connected all of us.
In spite of my brother’s limitations, his stellar personality and sense of humor shined through. Our brother, Johnny, would have this smirk on his face while watching KK.
Over time, we noticed a pattern in what Johnny found the funniest. He laughed the hardest when people were loud, yelling, angry or sniffling/crying. When I say laugh, I mean he displayed that shaking-silent-laughing-so-hard giggle.
One time I was crying about some nonsense, sniffling. My brother erupted with the laughing. I wanted to tell him to shut up, which is funny in itself. I stopped crying and started laughing too. This was the first time I recognized the irony of his reactions. There seemed to be a deeper, non-verbal message he was trying to communicate.
“I’m laying here on the floor, I can’t walk, talk or feed myself. What the hell are you crying for? Get some real problems”. -Johnny Durnell
Johnny passed away from respiratory failure on July 21, 1999 at the age of twenty.
I suppose repressing The Karate Kid is also like repressing the grief and all the uncomfortable emotions that go along with grief. Guilt, anger, despair, resentment, etc. feelings I don’t want to feel.
What these three examples have taught me is that the story I told myself kept me stuck. How repressing these emotions can result in HUGE mistakes if caught in an irrational, raw, vulnerable place.
The most difficult part of our stories is often what we bring to them—what we make up about who we are and how we are perceived by others. Yes, maybe we failed or screwed up, but what makes that story so painful is what we tell ourselves about our own self-worth and value.
Brene Brown
Thinking or talking about The Karate Kid makes me think of my brother, my childhood, and what this movie triggers inside me. It brings me joy, but it makes me feel pain in my heart. This movie unleashes a floodgate of all emotions.
If I want to feel, I have to feel it all. You can’t “show up” and “hide” at the same time.
Alcohol is a slippery slope, especially with trying hard to numb & repress grief. It is a band-aid that works at first, then it just makes it worse. Sleep deprivation, hormones, poor self-worth, disconnection contribute to an irrational & vulnerable state of mind. My coworker caught me at a weak moment emotionally and unknowingly made me feel safe by bringing up this movie. The connection felt euphoric because I blocked my story for so long.
If you won’t allow yourself to feel the sadness, anger, shame, grief and pain; you will also deny yourself the feelings of love, joy, growth and happiness.
Owning our stories means acknowledging our feelings and wrestling with the hard emotions—our fear, anger, aggression, shame, and blame. This isn’t easy, but the alternative—denying our stories and disengaging from emotion—means choosing to live our entire lives in the dark. It means no accountability, no learning, no growth.
Brene Brown
quillankellydunn | September 8, 2020 at 8:17 am | Categories: #freedom | URL: https://wp.me/p9zGxM-iuCommentSee all commentsLike
Take it easy Ben, you are just a sub. Substitute teacher: 
Quillan Kelly-Dunn 