Name: How Jason Voorhees Saved My Life
Item: Friday the 13th
Author: @ronpurteetv

FRIDAY THE 13TH, PART VIII: JASON TAKES MANHATTAN, Kane Hodder, 1989

When you lose something, the initial human instinct is to fill the void of loss with something to take the pain away. Some people throw themselves into their work, others into some kind of extra-curricular activity. Hell, some even venture down to the bottom of the bottle for comfort. I turned to Camp Crystal Lake.

Allow me to explain.

I've been a horror fan since I was a young child and Friday the 13th as a whole, has been my favorite franchise. They aren't cinematic masterpieces by any stretch of the imagination and you won't find them popping up in the Criterion Collection at any point except maybe for cultural relevancy, but something about them really resonated with me.

Fast forward to August of 2020. The darkest time in my life. I lost my mother. My family is small so we are close, and I took care of her for 20 years after a devastating car accident. Earlier in the year, when everything started to spiral out of control medically speaking, I was lost. Then when she passed, I was frozen. Hers wasn't a noble death. She suffered and the people charged with her care, who allowed it still walk around free without a second thought. That's another entry for another time I'm afraid, but it still opens the door for how Jason Voorhees Saved My Life.

When she died, I was filled with rage and I wanted revenge. It's a human reaction. I started watching any kind of content I could to mentally escape. Comic book movies, comedies, dramas, thrillers - you name it I probably put it in my blu ray player or streamed it somehow.

The one thing I didn't watch was my beloved Friday the 13th films. I didn't want to have such a horrible memory associated with something else that I love. I finally broke down and put them in and around the 20-minute mark or so in Part 2 it dawned on me. I was going through what Jason went through.

For those who are reading this that are unassociated with the Friday the 13th films, Part 1 was NOT Jason. Remember that if anyone in a Ghostface mask calls your home asking questions about horror movies. It was Jason's Mom - Pamela - doing the killing because her beloved Jason drowned in the lake at the Camp because the counselors weren't paying any attention and having sex. She made them pay.

At the end of the film, however, Jason watched his loving mother beheaded with a machete by Alice the final girl. The same thing happened to me but without the epic Henry Manfredini score and the cinematic slow motion, and instead of a quick painless death, I watched her suffer - tubes and wires where my Mother once was.

So over the next few hours, I sat watching Jason as he sliced and diced his way through anyone and everyone who got in his way. Something inside allowed me to live through the man-child's viciousness. It gave me some kind of peace. His anger, hatred, and rage, made me calm.

Despite therapy, meds, and calming techniques to stay my panic attacks, one of the only things to make me right, is a trip to Camp Crystal Lake through the eyes of a deranged, mostly dead murderous maniac.

Anything to get by, right?