Big Mouth: The Animated Show We Needed
“Perhaps the greatest battle we face in life is the battle with our own inner demons.” — Anon
It was your run-of-the-mill Saturday afternoon. I was lazing away, recuperating from the drab and yet draining prior five days that we call the work week. I decided to open the Netflix app on my television, hoping to find something worth watching to justify the increased prices. As the app booted up, the iconic “ba-dum” sound played and the words “Big Mouth” appeared on the top of the screen. “Big Mouth? Must be a new show,” I thought to myself. As a fan of animated content, I decided to give it a shot.
10 seconds into the show: Kids are in a biology class learning about puberty.
Me: Oh, looks like it’s an educational kid’s show.
10 seconds after: A brown furry monster with the voice of a bass guitar appears coaxing a boy to go to the bathroom so that he can masturbate.
Me: Oh boy, I was wrong. Guess I gotta see where this episode is going.
I sat down and finished the remaining 24 minutes and 14 seconds. Netflix got me, I was hooked.
Big Mouth is a polarizing show. At a cursory first glance, it appears to be a simplistic animated show that solicits laughter from crude, sexual humor at the expense of children. Those viewpoints are enough to deter most audiences. But the show is much deeper than that. It discusses topics such as insecurities, sexuality, mental health issues, and race — topics that require honest discourse in the present state of our society. The team at Big Mouth skillfully tackles these issues in a unique way.
Meet our Monsters
Big Mouth’s idiosyncratic trait is its diverse personification of emotions. Hormone monsters, Depression kitties, Anxiety mosquitos, Lovebugs, and Hate worms are just a few. These characters are only visible to the children they’re responsible for, and they routinely influence their lives.
The monsters’ personalities and design accurately reflect their respective emotions. The Hormone monsters are constantly aroused and the Anxiety mosquitos pester the children with outlandish scenarios. Their designs captured the essence of the emotions, and conveys it to the audience, especially those who have no prior experience.
The genius of this show is how it attaches these monsters to the children. As adults we tend to forget what it was like to be a kid. The emotions we felt as children are buried deep in the recesses of our mind. Seeing the children interact with their monsters serve as a stark reminder of the struggles of youth. It rekindled my empathy for teenagers. Watching their troubles unfold upon my television screen unearthed my own traumas, and provided insight into my adulthood actions.
The Mosquito I Never Saw
There are fewer things more annoying than being in your bed, trying to sleep, then hearing the following sound: *bzzzzt bzzzt*. The incessant buzzing of a mosquito that appears as soon as you’re ready for bed. Being born and raised in a tropical climate, this was staple of my childhood. These wretched devils’ pets would pester me, and have me flailing my hands in a desperate attempt to catch them. Thank God for the advent of electrical mosquito zappers, mosquito coils, and standing fans. Before then, I struggled to get a sound night’s sleep while they were present. After leaving the tropics as a teenager, my sleep was never disturbed by the discordance of a vampiric swarm. But, I was plagued by another unabated chatter; an internal buzzing.
Big Mouth caricaturized the internal buzzing, the Anxiety mosquito, which unknowingly surrounded me for years.
When I share with people that I experience social anxiety, I’m often met with disbelief. I’ve heard responses like “You don’t have social anxiety, you’re too sociable” or “I don’t believe you, you’re so friendly”. These comments reveal a lack of understanding about what it’s like to live with social anxiety. As someone with this condition, I’ve learned to put up a façade of sociability to fit in, but this takes a toll on my mental and emotional well-being. The truth is that social anxiety can affect anyone, regardless of how outgoing or friendly they may seem on the surface.
The Anxiety mosquito’s relentless chatter about dreadful and improbable scenarios struck a chord with me. Its incessant buzzing tormented the teenagers in the show, filling them with unwarranted insecurities. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity as the mosquito’s voice echoed the same doubts and fears that had plagued me for years. Phrases such as, “Maybe they’re all talking about you,” “Why would they find you interesting,” and “You don’t belong at this job, everyone is better than you,” would swirl within my head. Big Mouth masterfully captured the pervasive impact of anxiety on my self-worth and confidence.
The Metamorphosis of Childhood Traumas
Mosquitoes go through four stages: egg, larva, pupa, and adult. Eggs are laid in water, then hatch into wriggly larvae that feed on organic matter. Larvae transform into comma-shaped pupae, preparing for their grand debut. Finally, adult mosquitoes emerge, with males enjoying a short nectar-filled life while females seek blood meals for egg development. The cycle repeats as females lay eggs. Similarly to the lifecycle of a mosquito, our childhood traumas develop into adult mental issues.
I grew up in a judgmental household where frequent comparisons were made, spanning across various aspects such as education and society. In academia, I was compared to my classmates either by the school system, or my parents. Report cards imprinted with your placement in the class would lead to comments such as “why you never do better?”, or “Marcy’s daughter came second, if she did so, you could have as well”. I would not know if I was a son, or a trophy to be used for comparison during parental meetups.
In social settings, I was exposed to hypocritical behaviors where family members would shower friends with compliments in public, only to make judgmental remarks in private. As a child, I believed this was the norm, unaware of the seeds of hypocrisy being planted in the depths of my developing mind. Over time, these unaddressed seeds grew into a swarm of anxiety mosquitoes that continue to plague my adulthood.
Liberation from the Buzzing Shackles
In the ongoing battle against mosquitoes, we employ two primary defenses: mosquito coils and racket zappers. Mosquito coils are special incenses that we burn to repel these pesky critters. On the other hand, racket zappers are electrically charged mosquito swatters. With a press of a button, we swing them towards the enemy and eagerly await the satisfying zap of the fallen foe.
Despite the immediate influence of the above defenses, we faced a war of attrition against the relentless mosquitoes. They reproduced faster than we could eliminate them, sending soldiers in wave after wave until our coils ran out or batteries drained. In those moments, we were overran, succumbing to their persistent bites and incessant buzzing throughout the nights.
We needed an alternate strategy to defeat the annoying adversary. Our revised strategy involved attacking at enemy at their home base, their breeding pools.
We eliminated standing water, which we accomplished by regularly emptying and cleaning containers like flower pots, buckets, and birdbaths. Tightly covering water storage containers became a non-negotiable practice. Additionally, we relied on powerful larvicides to disrupt the mosquito life cycle in larger bodies of water. These techniques enabled us to reclaim peaceful hours of sleep and put an end to relentless swatting.
Similarly to the strategies we used to remove mosquitoes from our physical surroundings, I used strategies to remove the anxiety mosquitoes from my life.
I was introduced to drinking at an early age, and in Jamaica, our alcohol culture differs from that of the United States. While the legal drinking age is 18, it’s not uncommon for young people to have their first experiences with alcohol earlier.
I distinctly recall my first unsupervised drinking encounter around the age of 13 at a local dancehall party. Those parties were known for their all-inclusive nature, and as a broke teenager, they served as the metaphorical diving board that propelled us into the swimming pool of liquor (as Kendrick Lamar aptly described it). In that pool, I took my first breaths, becoming intoxicated not only with the drinks but also with the confidence they bestowed upon me. The once-shy boy who hesitated to dance found himself strutting on the dance floor, and the introverted boy discovered the courage to approach others. It was an exhilarating experience.
Fortunately, during high school, I attended only a few such parties, preventing major harm. However, college would prove to be an amplified experience, taking this journey with alcohol to a different level.
Attending college in the United States at the age of 19 exposed me to a different college experience compared to Jamaica. In the US, it is common for students to live on campus, while in Jamaica, the opposite is true. Another notable difference is the contrasting party and drinking culture. In Jamaica, college parties were typically held outdoors and included drinks, but becoming too intoxicated was considered a faux pas. In the US, college parties were often indoors and supplied with cheap, unpalatable beer. Students would actively seek heavy drinking and revel in their lack of recollection the next morning.
As I became deeply immersed in the US party culture, I began to realize the detrimental effect of relying on alcohol as a social crutch. It served as a temporary relief, swatting away my anxiety mosquitoes in the moment, but ultimately worsened my dependence.
Just like battling actual mosquitoes in Jamaica, my reliance on alcohol became a war of attrition. The more I consumed, the higher my tolerance grew, leading to an increased need for alcohol to achieve relaxation. In my early 20s, this toxic feedback loop went unnoticed, thanks to the advantages of youth and a speedy metabolism. However, as I aged, the effects became more pronounced. Hangovers became a dreaded reality, and the gradual weight gain took me by surprise. Each passing year, the loop intensified, until the point where the aftermath of a night of fun was no longer worth the temporary enjoyment.
I came to realize that addressing the root cause of my anxiety was essential. I needed to confront my anxiety mosquitoes at their breeding ground, to tackle the underlying issues rather than relying on alcohol as a temporary solution.
After years of help, guidance, and coaxing, I discovered effective methods to purify the troubled depths of my mind. Therapy, exercise, and positive affirmations became powerful tools in my journey to cleanse the contaminated source of my anxiety mosquitoes. Through these practices, I was able to extract the polluted waters and pave the way for healing and growth.
In the wild symphony of life, I found myself constantly swatting away the pesky buzz of anxiety mosquitoes. But you know what? I refused to let them control me.
I embarked on a journey of self-discovery and healing, determined to rid my life of these persistent pests. It took some deep soul-searching and a lot of hard work, but I discovered the breeding grounds where these anxiety mosquitoes thrived — those stagnant pools of unresolved trauma and negative thinking patterns.
Armed with the mighty tools of therapy, self-care, and unwavering resilience, I launched a full-scale assault. Like a seasoned mosquito warrior, I drained the polluted waters of my mind, creating a healthier environment where those pests couldn’t thrive. It hasn’t been a walk in the park, but with each small victory, I reclaimed a piece of my peace, confidence, and joy.
Today, I stand tall, no longer at the mercy of those anxiety mosquitoes that used to buzz around incessantly. I’ve emerged from the shadows, ready to bask in the warm sunshine of life, knowing that with the right mindset and strategies, I can keep those little buggers at bay and live a life free from their annoying buzz.
