Watching Juno

Watching Juno

 

I’ve had the opportunity for a while…to watch the film ‘Juno’ but couldn’t bring myself to even want to watch it – I was terrified. I often wonder how the abused react to watching abuse on film, or reading about it – being on the outside. I wonder how they respond both emotionally and physiologically. Does it help or hinder their ability to cope?

 

Perhaps my preoccupation with these questions led to my avoidance of facing this critically acclaimed adaptation of a teenager’s life gone askew.  ‘Juno’ has been praised for its wit and flawless performances yet I cannot recall many amusing moments in all of my journey of teenage pregnancy. The thought of embarking on this diluted humourous journey with Juno was more than I could bear. Would I compare our reactions to the pregnancy? The reaction of the parents – the choice she made; how would I feel – how would I compare – what would it say to me? I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through these emotions, because I knew that it would not be my story; at the very least, her suburban middle class family would continue to support her and perhaps even exhibit kindness while continuing to provide shelter and food.

 

Call it hateration if you’d like.

 

I did not want to see an aloof and free spirit suddenly recoiled with the idea that their once perfect life and body had been interrupted with a transitory illness with mild recurrences like a case of herpes.

 

I didn’t want to see her supportive parents, cooing friends and watch the final pieces come together in a happy ever after finale.  I couldn’t, because of unresolved issues that I had with my own experience. I thought I would not be able to watch a simple creative representation of a story that had nothing in common with mine except for the main character’s age of pregnancy. But yesterday – I closed a very painful and unresolved chapter – I put a name and a face to blank space on that map of my life and then I balanced my weight. I took a stone from my side of the scale and tossed it off, pressed play and watched the drama unfold. Juno was always a misfit even before her pregnancy so the social isolation was much like mine- bearable.  I loved it when her step mother gave the lab technician a piece of her mind. It truly was like watching a dream come true. Juno’s confidence and demeanor throughout her ordeal wore like a fantasy except for the final outcome where she did not raise her child.  Even then in my living room – I could not allow myself to imagine what it would be like to have given my son up for adoption. Even as love with her father’s child Bleeker, blossomed after the ordeal, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being on ‘the other side’.

 

I then found myself grateful, thankful and humbled; for in my story – my son was sleeping upstairs after kissing me good night – a constant reminder of 12 years of blessings, hope and hard work. I am by no means pitying Juno, in her world , she felt,  life for her  (and him) would have been worse off with the baby than without. What she did was honourable and difficult – no more or less than what I did -what we did.

 

I managed to step out of my world and into hers – celebrated her privileges and empathized with her challenges and ultimately was grateful for the journey. This is much more than a story about a pregnant young girl – its about women’s rights, adolescence, love , parenting, honesty and decision making.

Being on the sideline is much easier than playing the game.

This much is true.