Insert Foot goes on a family vacation to Disneyland.

ANAHEIM — The manipulators at Disney might as well just take all my money. They probably deserve it at least as much as the psychiatrist I no longer see because I don’t like hearing what’s supposedly good for me.

I was just at Disneyland for the first time in more than five years – an eternity for my kids and I, who for more than a couple decades used to go at least once a year. The kids, and wives, have varied during that time. For example, my eldest (child, not wife) is now grown up and lives in another country. But the process has remained mostly the same.

There was a point Tuesday when we were on that insane new (for us) “Star Wars: Rise of the Resistance” ride when I said out loud. “Just take my money, you bastards,” laughing maniacally, as we got marched into space jail.

I think I terrified some little kid, who inched closer to his mother.

Before you go all anti-Disney on me – yes, corporate soul suckers, capitalism, blah blah blah – understand that I don’t care. I was brought up loving the place and it affirmed my love again during the first real vacation I’ve had since 2016.

We needed this. For a million reasons.

The past half decade has been difficult for us. Five years ago next month, just after my country elected a hysterical Florida orange to the presidency, my marriage blew up like an old Nevada nuclear test site, as did my career (the same day my dog died unexpectedly, followed by my other dog dying a few months later). My kids went through divorce hell, I lived at a few different places (some much better than others) – and all kinds of bad things happened. When you consider there was also a vicious murder-bug killing more than 6 million people, and the first attack on the U.S. Capitol since the War of 1812, it hasn’t really been the best of times.

So resuscitating a career and accruing vacation time to use going to a silly theme park where I traditionally act like a deranged 5-year-old was… pretty great.

Because I have become a professional bridge burner, my family relationships also suffered during those bleak years. That made it all the better we vacationed with my sister and her daughters, all of whom went through their own tragedy the past half decade. We had a very necessary blast.

My sister and I only found one another about a dozen years ago, after missing having childhoods together (I realize the violins are getting unbearably loud at this point; no one will blame you for opting out to take a much more interesting nap or something).

So this became one giant, gift-wrapped opportunity to be Disneyland Dad again and go somewhere that really matters to me with a sibling who’s like a BFF and with whom I should’ve done this decades ago (and also get a little closer to being an uncle to a couple extraordinary girls while watching all the kids be cousins together).

Was I setting myself up to be crushed by an avalanche of middle-aged expectations brought on my own hopeless sentiment? Of course. But where’s the fun in not trying?

It wasn’t all magic. Being there prompted a couple tough conversations with each of my daughters. There were a few tears and some anger. But they were conversations that needed to happen, and I guess we needed to be bottled up together for four days for the emotions to reach critical mass.

It was still a great four days. I highly recommend everyone go out and spend money they don’t have on silly theme parks in 2022.

Follow music critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.