Wicked For Good: Recognition, Not Rupture — Not A Review, Just My Reflections

The bridge was crossed. The circle closed. I didn’t need the story to break me.

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I hesitated before watching Wicked: For Good.

After everything this year — the betrayals, the fractured ankle, the unprofessional caregivers, the hotel lapses, and the most recent trauma in Los Baños — I didn’t want anything heavy. I didn’t want another emotional blow.

I wanted something that would lift me, not break me.

I was in a vulnerable space, and I knew it. I was holding myself together with care, and I didn’t want a film to be the thing that pushed me past my limit.

Even with my resilience, I was aware that one more devastating experience might have been too much.

But I watched it anyway — cautiously, almost bracing.

And what surprised me was the softness of my response.

I didn’t collapse the way so many viewers did.

I didn’t feel gutted by Glinda’s remorse or undone by the separation.

And for a moment, I wondered if I had missed something.

But the truth is simpler:

I’m no longer standing in the same place as the woman who watched Part 1.

Back then, Elphaba’s story pierced me because I knew it was my story too. I wasn’t discovering anything — I was recognizing myself.

Now, after all the closures I had before leaving Manila for Los Baños, Laguna, I’m in a different season. A season shaped by boundaries, sovereignty, and the quiet work of reclaiming myself.

So when I watched For Good, I wasn’t watching from the wound. I was watching from the woman who has already moved beyond it.

Glinda’s remorse didn’t devastate me because I’m no longer seeking remorse from anyone who betrayed me. The sting still exists when I remember, but it no longer drives me.

I don’t need fictional accountability to soothe anything in me. I’ve already given myself the closure the past never offered.

I do recognize Glinda — the performance of happiness, the people-pleasing, the quiet self-betrayal of choosing what is approved over what is true. I recognize the longing of a woman trying to do what she believes is right in a world determined to misunderstand her.

But that season is behind me now. That pattern is broken. I no longer explain myself into safety. I no longer wait for the world to understand me before I allow myself to be at peace.

If I hadn’t done that work —

if I had watched this film before those closures and completions —

I probably would have broken down like everyone else.

But I didn’t.

And I’m grateful for that.

I didn’t miss anything in Part 2.

I’m simply in a different space than the majority. The film was grieving a layer I’ve already lived through. The story arrived right on time — just no longer at the center of my nervous system.

So instead of rupture, it offered recognition —

a quiet confirmation that I’m no longer watching from the wound,

but from the woman who has already integrated it.

If any part of this speaks to you, I invite you to share your reflections in the comment section below.

Peace and Blessings,
— Thea 💙