What the Michael Jackson Biopic Woke Up in Me

There are movies you watch once and forget. And then there are the ones that take you back somewhere... somewhere you'd locked up.

For me, the Michael Jackson biopic was the second kind. I watched it three times in three days, first. Not because I needed to see it again. Because I couldn't get out of it.

A Morning I Woke Up Lost

The morning after that first watch, I woke up lost. Not tired, not sad... lost. That fuzzy feeling of missing out on something, without knowing exactly what. Or rather, everything.

Then it rose, slowly. The feeling of having missed out on my whole life as a writer.

If you're reading this, you may have felt it too: a childhood memory resurfacing without warning, putting everything into question for one whole morning.

As a child, I dreamed of being published. Read. Recognized. Of writing songs, stories that made people dream, that touched them deeply. I even dreamed of seeing my work adapted for the screen.

Nobody watered that dream at home. My parents turned away from my artistic ambitions more than once, sometimes publicly. They never read a word I wrote. So, over time, I learned to put that dream in a drawer and move forward another way.

What the Michael Jackson Biopic Showed Me, Without Meaning To

Walking out of the theater, one thought hit me, clear as a blow:

The sky was not the limit to Michael Jackson.

There was no limit. Not to his talent, not to his work, not to his vision of who he wanted to become. The film also shows how he studied the people he wanted to surpass, how he trained his mind, day after day, to become the person he dreamed of being. Journaling. Affirmations. Manifestation.

I recognized myself in that, almost unsettlingly so. I've used these same tools for years. Alone, often with no one cheering me on. And here was one of the greatest artists of all time, doing exactly the same thing, to become exactly who he became.

This wasn't just a movie. It was proof!

The Night I Stopped Waiting for Permission

The night of my second watch, I came home and reopened my short story collection, Scènes Coupées. A project I'd been carrying for a long time, set aside out of fear, out of shame, out of years spent putting everyone else's expectations before my own.

I wrote from 4 p.m. to 4 in the morning. Without even noticing.

I hadn't asked anyone's permission. I hadn't waited for the right moment, for my finances to be perfectly stable, for someone to tell me I had the right.

I had simply written.

Creating for and in Joy, Even with an Old Wound in the Background

Here's what I'm learning this month, and what I want to share with you: you can carry an old wound AND create in joy. The two aren't mutually exclusive.

My relationship with my parents is still complicated. I won't tell you everything is resolved, that I've forgiven, that the page has turned. That would be a lie, and this blog isn't built for that.

But I understood one thing: as long as I let that wound decide what I allow myself to create, it keeps the power. But if I create despite it, with it, through it... I'm the one who takes back control.

We often carry childhood dreams we were taught to put away. A dream of dancing, of music, of writing, of a career we were told wasn't "serious." And sometimes all it takes is a movie, a song, a sign, for all of it to come rushing back.

That day isn't a crisis. It's a door swinging back open!

What I'm Inviting You to Do

If something is resurfacing for you too right now... a dream you'd set aside, a wish you've decided is "too big" for you... I invite you to do what I did that night.

Don't overthink it. Open your notebook, your document, or your voice memo. And let out whatever wants to come out. Not for it to be perfect. Just for it to be true.

He's the ultimate GOAT, I wrote after my third viewing. Not just about Michael. About what he reminded me was possible.

This is a line I now say, write, and live at the same time as you: we don't need to wait until we're ready to start creating what makes us come alive!

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Scènes Coupées, my short story collection, is moving forward slowly, tucked between busy days. I'll tell you more about it soon. In the meantime, tell me in the comments: what childhood memory is still waiting, somewhere, for you to bring it back to life?

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