Take a seat, children. I’m gonna tell you a story.
It’s Patrick Macnee’s birthday today, and somehow it feels right for me to get this out there, this thing I’ve been cooking for a few years now. So here goes.
About six years ago or so, I had a severe breakdown, both emotionally and physically. I had nearly worked myself to death (yes, literally; I was probably about two weeks away from needing to be hospitalized, and maybe four to eight from needing to be coffinized if I hadn’t regained my senses and stopped), and I was actively suicidal. I hadn’t actually made any attempts (and never did), but I was at the point where I was seriously considering methods and how I wanted to be found and by whom. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia soon thereafter, and a bit later had to deal with learning that I am autistic and have ADHD after already having lived nearly 50 years completely ignorant of those facts. (Actually it was something of a relief to finally know, but still; I had a pretty full plate already without having to also figure out what that meant for me.)
And all that up there? That’s just part of the story. (Yes, it was even worse than what’s in that bit up there. No, I am neither exaggerating nor joking.)
Anyway. With the help of some good meds and a better therapist, I started putting the pieces back together. And then my father died. His death wasn’t really unexpected, but it was kinda sudden, and since he passed an hour before my plane landed, I didn’t really get to say goodbye. (No, this isn’t the bit that’s missing from the first paragraph. My dad dying was on top of all the rest of that. Fun times.)
When I got home after the funeral, I started looking for old TV shows we used to watch together, and I remembered that my dad liked Avengers, although I myself had only the very foggiest memories of the show. But I looked around and found out Hulu happened to be streaming Seasons 4 and 5 for free at the time, which was convenient.
And into the cosmic shitshow I had been enduring walked John Steed and Emma Peel. And in a manner of speaking, they saved my life.
Oh, I had stopped being actively suicidal by then, because rest and meds and therapy, but Avengers was the thing that tipped the balance. I should mention that the whole suicide thing wasn’t exactly new for me: I had, in fact, been dealing with suicidal ideation of one kind or another for almost 30 years at that point, although I never really was tempted to actually do anything to myself until that breakdown. But after Avengers? I’ve had hardly any suicidal thoughts at all. Like, maybe once every six months or less, after having them on a weekly, if not daily, basis for three decades. And it’s not that I’m actively repressing them or anything. They just don’t happen much anymore.
Avengers was a revelation. I mean, here were two strong, intelligent people who were unapologetically themselves; who truly gave not a single rat’s ass about what others might think of them; who weren’t afraid to take open delight in things they loved and things that made them happy; who really loved each other and acted like it; who knew how to give each other their space and not resent the other’s need for privacy or alone time; who treated each other like equals and full human beings; who supported each other unconditionally and celebrated each other’s talents and contributions both to their work and to their relationship; who honestly trusted one another, and with good reason; and who really saw and respected one another and the other people they interacted with. I had never seen or experienced anything like it. (Sad, no?)
You know those “what I learned from Steed/what I learned from Mrs Peel” things I did a while back? Those weren’t jokes, and they weren’t just fun blog posts. Some of those really were things I learned from watching the show, while others were reminders of things that I never should have forgotten in the first place, but all of them things I consider life goals. (Well, except for maybe the kilt one. That was a little jokey. And I can’t really afford champagne on a daily basis. Also I don’t know how to do martial arts. Yet.)
Steed and Emma saved my life because they gave me back my self. For as long as I could remember, I had been walking a tightrope between trying to stay true to myself and trying to meet other people’s expectations of me, other people’s visions of who I am and how I should be in the world. Steed and Emma’s example gave me the courage to say FUCK THAT and just be myself, to stand up for myself, no matter what anyone else said, and showed me that it’s okay to be angry and to fight back because sometimes that’s the appropriate and necessary thing to do.
I think that’s the major reason why the suicidal ideation evaporated: I’ve stopped playing games, stopped trying to be someone I’m not, stopped feeling bad that I can’t be the person others want me to be, stopped beating myself up about the struggles I have because of my disabilities, stopped diminishing myself and twisting myself into pretzels so that others can be comfortable with me. Avengers showed me that was possible, and gave me the courage to do it.
So yeah. John Steed and Emma Peel kinda saved my life. They’re probably the two best role models I’ve ever had. That’s why they matter so much to me.
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