I’ve always turned to stories, books, comics, films to understand myself and the world around me.

But rarely has a Marvel movie made me feel as seen as "Thunderbolts" did. I watched it twice, each time struck not just by its action and spectacle, but by the raw, emotional core beating beneath it: a group of deeply flawed individuals trying their best to hold it together. Just like me.

For years, I struggled in silence with what I thought was depression, anxiety, and even bipolar disorder. The swirling storm of confusion, the sudden bursts of anger, the impulsive decisions that left me drained and ashamed, and it all painted a picture I couldn’t decode. I nearly couldn’t sit still during a summer literature class at Oxford, and what I thought were breakdowns turned out to be something else entirely: ADHD. It took nearly three decades to put a name to it. And with that diagnosis came a journey, a messy and transformative one, toward healing. With the right treatment, therapy and medication, I am still slowly reclaiming my focus, self-worth, and peace of mind. Recently, I finally felt like I could breathe, and I’ve reached the point of understanding that it’s ok to not be “perfect” or to try to hide yourself, your flaws and to feel like you are not enough. It's tough to be so hard on yourself that you cannot even see, feel or realize your accomplishments and positive aspects of your life, and that flaws just might mean power and might just be that you are an example of what it means to be ok with being you and understanding your bad days and why they might happen at times.

That’s why "Thunderbolts" struck such a nerve. From Yelena Belova’s haunting voiceover on disconnection and grief to Bob’s internal war with trauma and transformation into "The Void," this film doesn't shy away from the darkness that mental illness brings. The movie is great because it dares to say what many still hesitate to: that depression, PTSD, bipolar disorder and any other mental health condition does not make someone weak. They just make them human.

Bob’s character resonated with me, and I’m sure with many other viewers. His emotional extremes, his euphoric highs and devastating lows, mirror what many of us with neurological disorders live with daily. While he is obviously a character in a Marvel film, his traits and ups and downs, plus powerful moments in the film, lead to a lot of important messages represented to viewers in an exaggerated comic book style of way. And it works perfectly, especially for fans of Marvel Comics and films and their characters, like I am and have always been.

His pain doesn’t make him the villain; it makes him real. The moments when the team comes together, when they offer support instead of scorn, when connection overrides fear, that’s the true superpower. And for those of us who’ve felt isolated or broken by our own minds, those moments are everything.

Still, "Thunderbolts" is not without its flaws, but any work of art can have these.

Some critics argue that linking mental illness with villainy, even symbolically, can be problematic. It was mentioned that complex conditions shouldn’t be reduced to metaphors for destruction. Mental health isn’t just a plot device; it’s a lived reality for millions. Including me.

While they might have seen the themes represented in the film this way, as an issue, I feel like it is the perfect way to reach viewers and people that might come watch the film fighting their own inner mental health battles as well. It is a film that will leave everyone exiting the theater reflective, and it will feel the same once it’s available to watch at home.

But despite these concerns, "Thunderbolts" does something brave: it starts the conversation. It lets its characters feel, stumble, and heal. It reminds audiences that strength doesn’t mean perfection, and that some battles are fought not on alien planets, but inside our own heads.

As someone who teaches journalism and storytelling, I believe in the power of representation. I hope Marvel continues down this path, showing us heroes who struggle, who cry, who don’t always have it together. Because the more we see those stories, the more we realize we’re not alone.

We don’t need to hide our scars or our diagnoses. Whether you're battling ADHD, depression, bipolar disorder, or anything else, your story matters.

You're not broken, but you’re powerful. And maybe, just maybe, you're a superhero in your own right.

For more information on the movie and where to watch it, visit movies.disney.com/thunderbolts