Right, so let’s get started, yeah? My life in Findlay was like a tv show. I was the main character, my friends were the series regulars, the University of Findlay was our setting, and our plot was relatable, hard-hitting, and insightful—if a tad predictable. My life in Findlay was your favorite 90’s comedy—the Netflix show you put on after you’ve had a bad day and need to laugh and feel understood. However, my tv-show life had an unexpected plot twist that I never saw coming. In the middle of the show’s run, my wonderful, feel-good comedy started to take a weird turn.
For starters, the main character’s (that’s me) mentor up and dies of cancer, leaving her heartbroken for the next season and a half. The aftershocks of her mentor’s sudden absence are still felt in current episodes. Next, the main character is diagnosed with depression and anxiety, answering some lingering questions, but leaving her with many more. Such as, how does this diagnosis change the way I interact with the world on a daily basis? Does it? Do I need to label myself as a ‘person with mental illness’ ? Do I need to tell others about it? And so on. The main character tackles these challenges and overcomes them, like any decent protagonist. Of course, she does so with the help of her trusty supporting cast. She couldn’t do it without them. She was beginning to think that her character arc was plateauing. She felt pretty comfortable with where she was at. And then, the big one hit.
BAM! Change of setting. BAM! Change of cast. We weren’t in Findlay anymore, Toto. Our main character was ripped from small-town Ohio to head across the pond, placing our new season in London. It didn’t feel like our 90’s comedy anymore. It was like our show had a spin-off, and it was bad. Okay, well, maybe it wasn’t bad. But when we love the original show so much, with characters that are our friends and lines of dialogue that we know so well we could say them in our sleep, any deviation from that feels inherent
raised. We faced new challenges, like learning to navigate a wild and vast public transportation system, and facing horrible, consuming homesickness. And we had to do it all alone. We had to be vulnerable. We made mistakes, and we had a few triumphs, too. But most of all, we grew. We changed. And isn’t that what a protagonist is supposed to do, after all?
Life is a wild ride. It’s our favorite tv show. I’m the main character in mine. And you—you’re the main character in yours. You are the writer, director, producer, and the star. Those plot-twists we never seem to like, that life throws at us—they’re just the network executives in the sky. They’re trying to keep you down. Don’t let them. Make your show a smash hit, a cult favorite, an innovative and original take. It doesn’t have to be popular culture—you just have to like it. It’s your show. It’s for you. Make it worth sharing.