Love, Lost in Translation
I finally got to see "Lost in Translation " with She Who Puts Up With Me last night. Not your usual Hollywood romance, but both very funny and insightful. We both came out of the theater seeing ourselves in the story.
In the movie, Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson play Bob and Charlotte, two people lost, literally, spiritually, and emotionally, in Tokyo. Both are in emotionally unsatisfying marriages, and become close to each other as they try to make sense of their lives. Contrary to the usual romance formula, they never sleep together, kiss only at the end, and the movie ends with them going back to each other's respective spouses.
(Sorry if that was a spoiler. It is still a great movie, and you should go see it if you haven't already.)
Despite that, the emotional intensity between the two characters is no less, and at one point after Bob sleeps with a semi-talented lounge singer, Charlotte is just as hurt, betrayed, and jealous as if they had been married to each other.
After the movie, She Who Puts Up With Me had this to say:
"Every time you pack your bags and go dashing out the door to another business trip, I feel just like Charlotte watching her husband going off to the photo shoot. But when you call me from your hotel, and I'm busy with the kids and don't have time to talk, I see myself being Bob's wife, too."
I had to admit that I saw myself both as Bob and Charlotte's husband, too.
The interesting thing is that in the movie, the characters still loved their spouses, they still talked, but they didn't connect emotionally. Despite being married, both were very lonely.
My wife and I went through something like this at one point in our marriage, which is why it felt so familiar to both of us.
In the year or so after our twins were born, She Who Puts Up With Me went through a period of postpartum depression. This fairly common condition is the same thing which (in its severest form) sometimes leads new mothers to terrible things like trying to kill their babies, or themselves. While my wife's depression wasn't that severe, it was worse than what most women experience.
Depression can be an insidious thing, and I didn't recognize it for about ten months. All I knew was that my wife was not only very busy with the babies, but seemed to be very distant from me.
During this confusing and lonely time, I became close friends with a young woman I knew, who was also working through her own set of issues (those issues being her story to tell, and not mine). She actually reached out to me first, confiding in me some very painful events, which I believe (though I'm not certain) I'm the first person she told outside her immediate family and her therapist. Before long, we were acting as each other's informal counselors, sharing problems and providing a ready ear. We grew quite close.
This bothered me at the time, since even though our friendship was never even remotely physical, there was an emotional closeness which was uncomfortable to me as a married man. There was definite affection, though for me it was more like she was my twin sister than anything romantic.
In the end, She Who Put Up With Me overcame her depression, and my friend worked through her problems. Just as in the movie, we went back to our own lives, though my friend and I still see each other often.
The lesson is this: As human beings, we are not meant to go through this life alone. We have to reach out to each other and connect to each other, and support each other in times of need.
Or, as another friend once put it (perhaps more succinctly): "We're supposed to love our wives, our children, our mothers, our fathers, and our dogs. Who says we can't ever love anyone else?"