Anxiety, Panic, and The Hunger Games

Note: The following is a personal reflection of mine on the recent film "The Hunger Games."  While this isn't a film review per se, there are spoilers ahead, if you care about that sort of thing.

The thoughts expressed in this blog post are entirely those of the author, and do not reflect those of Google, Suzanne Collins, Scholastic Corporation, Lions Gate Entertainment, Gary Ross, Jennifer Lawrence, or indeed any other known human being.

I've been living with anxiety and panic for the last three weeks or so.  While I'm definitely on the mend, there's definitely still some lingering "what if...?" in the background, more than likely caused by that other stomach problem I've been told I have.

Having said that, I actually caved and decided to go see The Hunger Games over the weekend, just to see what all the hype was really about.

And I'm certainly glad I did.

Going into it, I knew about, and was quite intrigued by, the main event--what could best be described as an eclectic, if not sadistically ruthless, mashup of Survivor, Weakest Link, and the Roman Coliseum.  Some may even say a blatant ripoff of Battle Royale (which, as I've discovered, is not the case).


What I wasn't expecting, though, was to be as personally impacted by the film the way I was.


Jennifer Lawrence brilliantly plays the main role of Katniss Everdeen, 16, who volunteers as tribute for the 74th Hunger Games in her sister's place.  Just like any reality competition on TV these days, there can only be one winner.  But these games are different from your average series of Survivor, in that the winner is the only one left alive at the end.


Katniss and her fellow tribute, Peeta Mellark (also brilliantly portrayed by Josh Hutcherson), are two of the 24 tributes competing.  They are from the same district, and during the course of the games we see the two of them develop an alliance-turned-romance.


Let me pause here for a minute.  As I have previously stated, I have been suffering anxiety and panic attacks for the last three weeks.  With these attacks comes, after a chain reaction of emotions ranging from a fear of eating to a lack of motivation to work, a (largely irrational) fear of dying--or at least the fear of something else (read: worse) happening to me.  I've developed a lot of fears of things I used to enjoy, such as a good meal or a swim--in other words, perfectly innocuous things that, while I'm beginning to get over it, I now dread.


But I find a bit of myself in Katniss, in Peeta, in any of the other tributes for that matter.  And with that comes a bit of a reality check.  Unlike my irrational fear of death, the tributes' fear of death is very real.  It becomes real from the very minute they are reaped, and lasts through the second the games begin until the very instant they die or win.  And even though my fear won't come to fruition, it still haunts me, just as the tributes' very real fear does to them.


This is why I, as Merv Griffin once said, "would rather play Jeopardy! than be in it."


The other bit, the reality check, that I noticed was this notion of tenacity, of boldness, of fearlessness.  Yes, the possibility of death is high.  But to win this game, you have to put that thought completely out of your head, and be ready to betray everyone to be rich.  And in a sense, I would have to be that fearless to get over my panic/anxiety/whatever this can be called.  And given how I completely lost it, broke down and cried the other night, I've got a long way to go before I get to that point.


It's also why I'd be a terrible tribute.  I'd be dead within the first hour.


Watching The Hunger Games was also the first time I can remember when I actually cried in the theater.  Katniss's alliance and friendship with Rue was incredibly gripping.  I think it speaks to the acting of both Lawrence and Amandla Sternberg (Rue) when I say that I was genuinely shocked when Marvel killed Rue, and was equally as heartbroken as Katniss was. My tears began to flow when Katniss sang to Rue, fulfilling her last request, and when Katniss covered Rue in flowers.  If there is any solace to be had, at least Katniss and Rue weren't the final two, leaving one with a difficult decision to kill the other.


Nonetheless, it served as a sobering reminder to cherish those that are close to you.


I didn't need to be told going into this film that there's always a dark side to love.  But yet I still was, through Gale.  Gale, the one who has feelings for a girl he practically grew up with.  Gale, the one who can't bear to look as his love interest locks lips with another young man.  Gale, the one hurt by the star-crossed lovers stunt.


I, too, identify with Gale (and with Peeta too, in a sense, since I suppose he goes through something similar...only the odds were in his favor in that respect).  I have been smitten, if not in love with, a girl I know well; have seen said love interest get together with a different man; have spent so many nights lying awake, unable to sleep, all the while thinking that should have been me.

But then there's that unadulterated joy that comes with seeing one's family again, as we see when Katniss returns home from the games to the sister she vowed to protect.


It's like stepping off the plane and into the arms of the loving family you haven't seen in months.


And that's when you realize your fears are gone.