Eight Years Later: How 'Game of Thrones' Changed My Life

Just as I was willing to submit to futile boredom and contempt, it darted up. Hard, fast, and agile—appearing before me in a whirlwind and blur. Dashing from picture to picture, scene to scene; candid in its presence as it prowl before me, ready to strike directly into my heart. And strike it did; deep, passionate, irrevocable. Then, at the end of each electrical impulse, when the synapses’ were no longer being danced across, all that was left was me. Reeling and reflecting, in both my TV screen and contemplation. What happens next? Who happens next? Will I ever grow tired of such a phenomenal outlook on a completely fantasised realm?

So, let’s talk: Game of Thrones*squeals and cries internally.* Yes, it’s over. I’m over. Everything’s over. What the hell do I do now? Sure, I sound dramatic, but you must understand that I’m a changed woman now. Albeit when I started watching Game of Thrones I was a mere, innocent minded teenager. Now let’s just say I’m not so innocent—in the sense that the books I choose to read because of Game of Thrones have everything GoT introduced me to: sex, gore, loss, tragedy, passion, romance, death, and hey, even incest am I right? No? Okay. But on a serious note, GoT really did change my life.

When I was a kid in school, sure I liked books, loved even. Still do, very much. But one day I found this book called Game of Thrones: A Song of Iceand Fire, and to be 100 percent down to earth, on this planet, I didn’t like it much. I just couldn’t get on with it. Perhaps I was too young to appreciate such witty, sophisticated writing, or perhaps the pace wasn’t quite what I was used to (teen fiction of course). It just wasn’t a teenagers kind of book, so I left it. Then I heard about the TV series and honestly, the rest is damned history. Forget books, games and friends. There was dragon eggs, Khal Drogo,—bless his gorgeous six pack encrusted soul—Dany, Jamie, Tyrion, Starks, Baratheon’s and praise the many faced God does the list go on. I was utterly, unconditionally hooked and in love with this series. It changed my outlook on life, on people. Who to trust and how to calculate particular responses both emotional and verbal—thanks for this Littlefinger. And most importantly, it changed my happiness. I’ve never particularly been one to have many friends or go to all the parties and partake in general socialising. GoT had me talking to not only some of the friends I still have today, it gave me more to do. Simply google “books like Game of Thrones” and you’ll never be bored again. I found my passion, my love, my life aspiration; reading and writing.

Don’t get me wrong, my life isn’t hunky dory and hasn’t been without its hiccups, like most people in the world. SPOILER: this is where winter finally comes so if you are an emotional wreck like me, abort mission now. I have suffered quite horrifically with severe clinical depression (later diagnosed with Bipolar), been in and out of psychiatric units, due to self harm, anxiety, suicide attempts, but the one thing that I can safely say has remained a constant throughout my teenage years and into adulthood has been my absolute immutable love for GoT and everything fantasy. For when I—what I thought—was an irreparable, empty, shattered human being on the brink of my twenties, my mum—god bless her beautiful soul—handed me items more precious to me than jewels or gold: books. These not only helped pass the time, but reading them gave me strength. How I felt in this moment, in this time of my life, was dead. But as the Greyjoy’s like to squawk up to the heavens; what is dead may never die. And just as I thought my watch had ended, my mum came back another day to hand me the last book she had dug up amongst my favourite authors,—Richelle Mead, Sarah J Maas, Cassandra Clare—Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire. As a girl who felt utterly alone in the world, fundamentally broken (much like the newly appointed king) and on the brink of my existence, this book comforted me. It was my solace. I didn’t feel alone any longer, just solitary.

I left the hospital a few days later, much like Khaleesi, reborn in ambitious fire. What do we say to the God of Death? Not today.

So for this mans mind, for HBO’s commitment, to all the actors, makeup artists, musicians, directors, producers, animators, artists, everyone and everything, I am forever in your debt.

...and in true Lannister fashion, I always pay my debts.

P.S. I feel like I’ve talked about the books a lot, but the show obviously out lived the books so just so you know, I adore both. Kind of how Tyrion Lannister adores both tits and wine.