Every fan has their Star Wars stories. I’ve got a few, and I’d like to share them with you. Here’s one:

It was December 2016, and I wasn’t talking to my husband. I can’t remember exactly what I was so upset about; I just remember being so ANGRY that my lips remained zipped for several days. I don’t scream when I’m angry. I shut up. This is primarily to keep myself from utterring terribly cruel things that I don’t mean and would ultimately regret, but there’s also an element of punishment to it. I’ll admit it.

Anyway, after several days, my husband couldn’t take it anymore. The Force Awakens happened to be premiering that weekend, and he knew I wanted to go see it very badly. He’s not as much of a dedicated fan as I am, but he enjoys the films as the popcorn movies they can be. So on this particular day, when my silence was pushing him to the limit, he very quietly asked, “I was wondering if you wanted to go see the new Star Wars movie with me.”

Hmm, well played, husband, well played. Of course I wanted to see it. But I almost said no, clinging to my anger and vowing I’d go see it by myself. To hell with him! But I recognized that he was holding out the olive branch, so after a minute, I said, “Sure.” We dropped our daughter off with my mom, and off we went.

I sat in the theater, totally absorbed in the joy of a new Star Wars movie. I was catapulted outside of myself, riveted by the story, the characters old and new, the action, the roller coaster ride of my emotions. It was such a relief to be feeling something other than anger. I even let my husband drape his arm on the back of my chair.

When Kylo Ren killed Han Solo, I was shocked, outraged, and…angry. But this was a different anger than my domestic ire. It was a place I could channel my own anger, and diffuse it. I thought, man, I thought I had problems. I don’t. This guy’s got problems.

We were silent on the way home, but it was more of an exhausted absorption of the movie, rather than any chill between ourselves. I didn’t feel that anymore. I was still sore from our disagreement, but I let the anger go. Isn’t that what a good Jedi does? You know, fear, anger, hate…darkside suffering. And it’s true. Fighting with my husband makes me feel awful and unhappy and basically like a bucket of turds. Once the spell of anger had been broken, I could speak rationally about what was bugging me.

My husband and I would have eventually cleared the air and made up even without the movie, of course. But it just happened sooner. Star Wars makes me happy. And it even mends relationships!

Don’t be like Kylo. Let that shit go.