Kill them all, Wanda | hobbyconsoles

It was the year 2012. It was October, I remember it perfectly because the Fiestas del Pilar were celebrated in Zaragoza. The air smelled of grilled sausage, cotton candy, and fermented alcohol. The sound of the fairs mixed with the voices of the thousands of people who used our Virgin as an excuse to shout to the world that we were alive.

I was just 20 years old and I was sure that nothing could hurt me. But as I entered the concert hall, I felt a prick in my left forearm. I twisted my face, surprised. He hadn’t hit me and there wasn’t any mark there. The pain did not subside. It was inside, growing. I started to get scared and remembered something that had happened four years before.

My father suffered from angina pectoris. He works in a hospital as a caretaker and quickly identified that something was wrong in his body, so he was able to catch it in time and the scare was left at that, in a scare. When I talked to him about it, he explained to me what the symptoms were, in case one day it happens to me. They were exactly the same symptoms that I suffered that night for the first time.

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My head exploded into tiny fragments. The pain in the left forearm moved to the shoulder of the same arm and from there to the chest. It is like having a hand inside your body, poking at you, stirring you up, searching for your heart and squeezing it like a ripe fruit. I got dizzy and felt faint. I started to sweat. I felt like crying.

I didn’t know what was going on, but I felt like it was the same as my father. However, something inside me made me feel ashamed and I told my friends and my partner that I was going home, that I was not feeling well, that the drink had made me sick and that we would see each other tomorrow. Nobody cared, beyond trying to make me stay, not to leave. Neither did any of them.

After that night, I’ve had so many anxiety attacks that I’ve lost count. Some of them were so strong, so aggressive, they made me lose my mind in such a disproportionate way, that I went up to the emergency room believing that I was dying, begging for help, with tears bathing my eyes and teeth marked on my lips from clenching so much. .

I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. They told me that I would have to learn to live with this mental health illness, but I refused. I looked for more help. I sank into a sea of ​​lorazepam until, little by little, I stopped dealing with the anxiety. I gave up. I threw in the towel. I gave up. And in that surrender I found the discovery that made me come out of the abyss.

By accepting defeat, I won. I understood what the mechanisms of this disease were, I assumed the accompaniment of him throughout my life and I tried to become his friend. From time to time, he plays tricks on me. He will continue to do so, with that invisible face that destroys everything in its path, like time. But it’s not the same as before, although he still hurts the same way.

During all these years, I have stopped doing many things because of anxiety, although I have tried to avoid it. I pushed away friends and had rude gestures with people I loved. I got angry with the world, with everything and everyone, for not wanting to understand me, I said; because I really didn’t want to make myself understood, it was the truth.

In these ten years, I have destroyed myself as many times as I have put myself back together. I have died and been resurrected in each of the attacks. I have the forearms and other parts of the body painted with bruises. I pinch myself when I have a seizure. I hurt myself. I found that if I move the pain from one part to another, the attacks last less time. It is not a clean tool, but it is effective.


Doubts that Doctor Strange leaves us in the multiverse of madness, and now what?

But, you may be wondering, what does all this have to do with Scarlet Witch and Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness? What does my testimony on anxiety, one in a million, have to do with the latest Marvel Studios movie that is bursting the international box office?

Well, when we talk about movies, series, books, comics and so on, we really do it in symbolic terms, never in absolute terms. In this case, beyond everything she does and how she does it, fiction and fantasy, I have found a portrait close to anxiety in the figure of Wanda Maximoff (Elizabeth Olsen).

In the Scarlet Witch and the Vision series, Marvel Studios made an anthology about depression, loss, and personal self-acceptance. Of those muds, precisely, these muds. Not in vain, depression and anxiety, although they are different conditions, often manifest simultaneously.

Many professionals maintain that anxiety can present as a symptom of clinical depression. It also works the other way around. An anxiety disorder, as is my case, frequently triggers episodes of depression. I, who have always liked to write and name things, took to calling it “the hangover.” It seemed more human to me.

Wanda Maximoff has run into that hangover by WandaVision in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. The abrupt, tragic and dramatic psychological process that she experienced in the television series has led her from depression to anxiety, with a catalytic element in between that has multiplied the onslaught of the waves and the fury of the seas.

The item I’m talking about is the Darkhold. I insist that we speak in symbolic terms, not absolute. The Darkhold is that cigarette that they offer you on a terrace, with a mug of beer in the sun, when you haven’t smoked for a few days and you have a milk monkey. It’s like putting whiskey on the lips of an alcoholic who hasn’t had a drink for several months.

Wanda Maximoff has a mental health illness. She’s sick. People still tend to think that this is an exaggeration, even an excuse for certain behaviors. But neither having depression is being sad, nor having anxiety is being nervous. The problem is much deeper. Your solution, therefore, is too.

To make matters worse, Wanda is not only sick, she is also alone. She has been left alone by tragedy. She has lost Vision more times than anyone can lose a lover. She lost her parents and siblings. She lost her new family, the Avengers. And she lost her world, her city, her country, her life, her childhood, her memories. She has lost everything.

Dealing with loss, with deep depression, with raging anxiety, while at the same time dreaming of a life that the Darkhold has shown you exists, a life in which you are genuinely happy, in which you have wonderful children and where fear, sorrow and pain seem to have found rest.

How many of us would not get lost along the way if we extrapolated the fiction of Scarlet Witch to our lives? How many of us would not fall into self-destruction or the destruction of everything we know if we had to face a narrative parallelism like yours? Who could still stand, pride and honor intact, if she saw herself in one like that?

With this I am not making any kind of justification of violence, death or murder. I insist for the third time that I speak in symbolic terms, not in absolute terms. Fiction is one thing and life is quite another.. But the background of Wanda Maximoff is this and, in my case, it is inevitable to empathize with something so obviously personal.

A wrong action cannot be justified, but it can be understood. There are many nuances when judging, Good and Evil are two concepts that only concern God. Has Scarlet Witch acted correctly in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness? Of course not.

Wanda will have to deal with the consequences of her actions, if there is a new episode for her in the Marvel Universe. But she also needs help. She needs someone to understand her, understand her, value her and help her get out of that miserable pit of darkness she’s stuck in. None of us got out of there on our own. We all need others to be better people.

He will pay for his sins, like everyone else. Perhaps there is no forgiveness or redemption for her, after what happened in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. But if we speak in symbolic terms, not in absolute terms, Wanda should be given a hand. Not only to benefit her mental health, but also to prevent future crises, given her power level.

After all, if Scarlet Witch can’t be happy, you know what they say: “Kill them all, Wanda. Kill them all”.