TW: mentions of suicide and depression
I’ve always been the kind of person to be extremely swayed and touched by words. Poems would make me cry for their sheer beauty, music be my remedy, books offer me infinite wisdom beyond my years. Sometimes, entire dialogues in film and TV haunt me while I repeat the lines over and over until I become some sort of phantom actress myself. One scene in particular grabbed me by my throat and quite literally mirrored my entire being and portrayed something so ever-defining about my existence, that I can’t shake the feeling off how it was fateful divine intervention for me to watch an anthropomorphic adult cartoon about a chaotic horse in his mid-life crisis on Netflix.
“Yeah, but I’m not writing a book to have fun. If I don’t write my book of essays now, I never will! (…) Because if I don’t, that means that all the damage I got isn’t good damage, it’s just damage. I have gotten nothing out of it, and all those years I was miserable was for nothing. I could have been happy this whole time and written books about girl detectives and been cheerful and popular and had good parents, is that what you’re saying? What was it all for? (…) When I was a little girl, I thought that everything, all the abuse and neglect, it somehow made me special, and I decided that one day I would write something that would make little girls like me feel less alone. And if I can’t write that book – (…).” ― Bojack Horseman (2014 - 2020), Season 6 Episode 10 “Good Damage”
Bojack Horseman is an incredibly well written show with an unmatched depiction of mental illness and the complexity of life. Many scenes made me ruminate and reflect on my own life, but above all, this monologue about Diane’s childhood trauma and aspirations as a writer might as well have been stolen out of my (actual real) diary. Diane was in many ways a character I wistfully projected onto; I don’t think I’ve ever felt this represented in my hypocrisy and longing before. Frankly, I took a lot of personal offence after finding out that she is, in fact, not liked by many – I might relate a bit too much in the way that she always wanted something bigger for herself and nothing ever seemed to suffice. (Age-old question: are you universally hated if your kin is, too?)
I remember watching this scene two years ago, during a time I was immersed in literature about childhood trauma, healing and grief, as I had just dropped out of my former major and needed guidance away from the judgement of my family. I was facing a lot of buried emotions for the first time in my life and one aspect about my trauma became very central very soon, which I simply referred to as ‘compensation’; the notion of ‘everything happens for a reason’.
For most of my teens, I had an ungodly conviction that my life is inherently tragic. It’s beside the point to contemplate on how much of my pain was legitimate and how much was mere addiction to misery. I genuinely thought that being severely depressed and chronically suicidal during my formative years was simply some sort of inspirational rags-to-riches backstory I could fall back on after monetizing on its lessons. By now, I can assure you that it only leads to you being a severely depressed and chronically suicidal adult.
There came a time in my early teens where I just decided I had to be this way – because, well, everything happens for a reason. Undoubtedly, this belief was birthed by years of religious indoctrination. You are taught that pain is rewarded; after hardship comes ease and I am simply being tested – Whenever Allah wills good for a person, He subjects him to adversity. Declaring that I had it worse than my peers also meant that someday, I would have it better than them; in Diane’s words, it made me feel special. In hindsight, this belief was rather magical thinking in an attempt to cope with emotions I didn’t know how to shoulder yet. I was sad and edgy and saw that many people my age actually weren’t, so I needed an explanation for my unprovoked bad time – and then you simply believe that God’s great gift to you in this lifetime is immense sadness, because it’s integral to my creative process and will surely shape me into an award-winning, relevant writer (spoiler alert: it didn’t).
It makes it all the more personal for me that Diane channels the sentiment for her writing especially. Sad books and tearjerkers are always critically acclaimed and timeless, and suddenly you know that there was a reason behind your traumatic experiences. It gives you the perfect equipment for profound writing, as long as you can make use out of it. Whatever I would do in my future, it had to be meaningful. I developed the insatiable obsession to matter; only fame, success and wealth would be enough to make up for a youth I unwillingly had to trade in. Assigning meaning to suffering emphasizes that it wasn’t for nothing, but for a greater purpose, which would reveal itself later in life. I had never asked for it, but now that my youth was mostly gone, I had to make sure that one day this sacrifice would be worth it. It is strangely comforting to know that this is evidence of our human virtue as there is nothing more universal than inventing gods and spirits to ensure their mercy will transform your pain into glory one day, if only you pray hard enough.
If I can transform pain into art, I can look back and appreciate the foundation it has created; it wasn’t forever, it was there to teach me. But when the time has come and you can’t make anything tangible out of it, it’s just pain. Now, there’s something that decorates your lifeline with an unbridgeable gap. My worldview collapsed once I understood that reaping the benefits of trauma is an illusion I made up because I couldn’t fathom the time I lost wouldn’t ever be compensated for. If there was never a need for it in the first place, I could have been happy all along. Knowing now that all the darkness and nihilism and hurt doesn’t really guarantee a future where it pays off, I wish I had been more cheerful instead; I wish I had been more outgoing, and had kinder parents, and studied less, and eaten more. None of the misery kept its promise to make me stronger; it just left me with bad memories.
The fixation on unhappiness both makes you bitter about your past, and dissatisfied about your future. See, I love the show’s execution on Diane’s life after her trauma – nothing is ever enough when you try so hard to create situations where the good has to be extraordinary, meaningful and huge enough to outweigh all the bad. Just like her, I needed the comfort that it couldn’t have been easier.
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My first lesson in healing followed after all the emotional turmoil of looking back with regret – it’s important to understand that essentially, you are grieving. Feelings of bitterness, guilt and fear are all natural responses to loss. Grief is welcomed by death, and I do consider years of suffering the passing of your innocence. Accordingly, you need to respond with grace. After graduation, I was so angry at myself; how’d I let my precious youth pass me by? How were you so young, and so full of hatred? But I try to reserve love for her, because it seemed like the entire world was against me, so she just tried to make sense out of that. Maybe it never had to be this way, especially since it always seemed like nobody else was ever doing as bad, but I had to invest in my own ‘book of essays’ for me to make the circumstances worth it. Don’t get me wrong – I still have a hard time coming to terms with the reality of my paradigm. Subtracting a possible future where I can make up to my inner child by creating something great and meaningful, leaves me scared and bitter; it all boils down to what was it all for. But the endgoal is not to understand, explain or compensate; it’s not a check-off list leading to a point where you are one day magically okay that you lost entire decades to mental illness and abuse. At first, I thought I would be considered ‘fully’ healed once I never thought about my childhood and teenage years again. However, it’s not about suppressing the grief, it’s about radical acceptance. It was extremely liberating to understand that I might very well be grieving over my lost youth in my 30s, 50s, 70s, but that’s okay. It doesn’t diminish any potential to mold all the years left into something beautiful.
I hope to always channel love and growth during the process as there should be no pressure to cover the scars; you don’t have to make something out of the tragedies. If I seek out all this ‘compensation’ in my 20s, I might just miss out on the present, so I try to remind myself ever so often that I may very well find peace in mediocrity outside of a state of yearning. It’s rewarding to see that Diane got her happy ending after all, considering that she couldn’t let go for so long (and I see myself in her so I take it things will be okay for me too great thanks k bye). All that you owe yourself is patience and kindness and a sense for all the potential Ivy Tran, Food Court Detectives your future has yet to offer.
With love,
Maryam XOXO
here’s the scene with Diane’s monologue for anyone who might want to watch it!
btw i totally recommend the show to anyone who hasn’t seen it yet it’s one of my favorites! it explores mental health and interpersonal relationships on a very deep level, don’t be fooled by the talking animals and miss out on a contemporary masterpiece <3
Oh my god??? This was so beautiful I have yet to finish high school and you have no idea how long I’ve been looking for advice like this. I’m almost in tears
that passage you quoted feels surreal, wow. no wonder this is one of my friend's favorite shows.
"My worldview collapsed once I understood that reaping the benefits of trauma is an illusion I made up because I couldn’t fathom the time ." yeah, we don't always do what might be considered the best for ourselves, we do what we can to deal with things, especially suffering. i'm happy to see you've gained a more hopeful view, yes, your potential doesn't have an expiration date, and doesn't need to come from suffering to be of any worth
the 'everything happens for a reason' fallacy is something i fall into in one too many aspects of my life. it's a bit twisted when you deep think it through.
have you ever watched 'the good place'? it doesn't sound as serious as bojak horseman but it tackles big and smaller life questions, mostly from philosophy. the way you write so captivatedly and your appreciation from your own show makes me feel like you might enjoy it. it's a bit silly (doesn't have talking cartoons but does feature a neither human nor robot being that knows everything), but to this day is one of my most beloved pieces of media