A few years ago, I moved back to New York fresh off a breakup, and with a sharp pain in my knee.
The dream I thought I’d wanted — the life in California with my now-ex, the new exercises and dance moves I wanted to try — had all been completely put on hold.
I watched a lot of shows while healing from my knee injury, but none stood out as much as Game of Thrones. I started watching the series soon after the surgery, and it brought me through those months, transporting me to a different world full of intrigue, danger, and infinite lore.
Like many, I found myself immediately drawn to Daenerys Targaryen. I already knew how her story ended; I could remember how shocked and horrified my friends had been when the finale aired.
I would never compare my situation to Dany’s. I didn’t even feel particularly sorry for myself at the time; I was still able to live in New York City and could order Lyfts and DoorDash.
The whole time I watched Game of Thrones, I was also mostly horizontal. Not because I was in bed, but because I was basically doing physical therapy the entire time I watched the show.
I was hooked, completely. I finally understood why Game of Thrones had sparked such a craze.
Characters like Brianne of Tarth, Ygritte, and Tyrion Lannister still live in my heart today.
I was prepared for the last few seasons to decline in quality as well, but I wasn’t too disappointed when I watched Jon Snow come back from the dead.
All the while, I kept steeling myself for Dany’s downfall. I’d had enough disappointments, I thought. I could handle it. And I felt sympathetic to her as I watched her slowly descend into madness and exhaustion.
But then came the episode where Dany massacred King’s Landing. Randomly. Unnecessarily. Without any plausible cause. And I was enraged.
Because this was so random. So out-of-left-field. I could see the patterns that had led me to the toxic relationship that resulted in an inevitable breakup. I could trust that it all was part of some greater plan. But there was no greater plan behind what happened with Dany and her decision to brutally kill all the people she’d spent the whole time fighting for.
I think I was angrier about what happened with Daenerys than my own breakup and knee injury combined.
My knee took a little while longer to heal after I finished Game of Thrones. But it eventually completely healed, allowing me to travel the world as I’d long dreamed. I’m now in a new relationship and am completely over my ex.
TV shows aren’t just entertainment. For many, especially when they’re going through a hard time, they’re relief, providing calmness, escapism, and joy. They’re certainly not something to become overly reliant on. But they’re pretty innocent forms of self-soothing.
I’ll always remember watching some of Daenerys’s most iconic early scenes — when she hatched the dragon eggs through the fire, and when she was saved by Drogon. Those scenes remind me that we can always rise from the ashes.
In spite of the ending, I still think Game of Thrones is worth a watch — as long as you don’t mind a heavy dash of violence and sex, of course — and I don’t regret watching it in the slightest. It’s beautiful high fantasy, wild and imaginative and heartbreaking in the way the best stories are.
In fact, I might just have to rewatch it again. And at least we have House of the Dragon, a show where we already know that the characters are morally a mess. Maybe it’s a Targaryen thing. Or maybe it’s a life thing.
