Baby Reindeer, sent from mz iPhone

It is so refreshing to start a Netflix show, forget that it’s based on real people, and suddenly find huge similarities between yourself and the main characters. That’s right—after ending a relationship with a friend in what I would call a new way of being toxic and horrible, I found myself dissecting what led me to become such a person. Thanks to Netflix, I realized that many of the things I did could easily be mistaken for stalking or plain toxicity. Like I said—refreshing. Having my failures put under such a sufficient lens led to a deeper understanding of how I was the problem, which, surprisingly, may help me avoid repeating the same mistakes.

And to think, this friend actually watched the show before me. I even asked him about it, and he replied that it’s “mid.” But now, just seeing these characters, I can’t help but think that he probably saw me as Martha the entire time. Although I tried to suppress my empathy for Martha—seeing through her game, through and through—I found myself deeply touched by her inability to control herself and reason with sanity. Her portrayal felt multilayered and fascinating, like peeling back the layers of myself, trying to understand why we sometimes lose control.

Of course, with Martha, there are implied mental health issues that were never dissected—just as mine were never truly explored by a real specialist. I am still impressed by this story, and weeks later, I’m still processing what happened with those two characters. The show is fascinating in its ability to create empathy, then take it away, only to restore it again as the events unfold. It acknowledges that life isn’t black and white and addresses topics like addiction, mania, depression, trans and gay identities, homophobia, transphobia, shame, pain, and disorders—making it a multilayered and compelling narrative.

The only problem I have with the show is that it made discovering the real people behind it far too easy. In today’s world, with our tools and abilities, that can happen in seconds. I’ve since seen interviews, like the one with Piers Morgan, and it feels horrible that the people involved now have to suffer even more because of the show’s success. It’s a deeply personal and heavy story, and to be honest, pain and suffering are often what make people interesting.

The way I say that might sound stripped of empathy, but it’s quite the opposite. Pain and suffering connect people; they allow us to feel emotions that we don’t know how to process or are too ashamed to express. Pain and Suffering should be the new characters in Inside Out 3. 😊 Pain and suffering remind us that we’re not alone. That’s why I connected with this friend I no longer speak to. That’s why I stop myself every time I think about him and feel the need to reach out. I realize that although I served as a great distraction during what was a horrible year for him, I now only bring him pain and suffering.

The things that connected us—I ended up creating, which caused him harm. And perhaps the most unselfish thing I’ve ever done was to recognize that I was the problem and stop the toxic cycle we created. I love him, and I think he’s an incredible person, which makes letting go so difficult. But the thought of hurting him more with my twisted behavior (no matter the reason) doesn’t allow me to bother him anymore. I really wished it could work out and we could remain friends, but the last few months have shown me that such a dream is pure fiction.

Back to this show, the actress who plays Martha absolutely ravished this role. I saw past her manipulations because her feelings were just as clear as her intentions. I developed this deeper understanding and empathy for her character, even though some of her actions were hardly forgivable. Her lack of control made me feel understood, and what is needed in such situations—beyond recognizing that there’s no stopping once you’re on—is more empathy and understanding.

One thing that bothers me lately is the lack of self-reflection. It’s so easy to point fingers, shaming others and turning them into symbols of what we fear exists in ourselves. Just like how the loudest homophobes often turn out to be the most passionate cock suckers in secret, pointing out someone else’s flaws often reveals our own weaknesses.

The time we spend avoiding the mirror—screaming at others instead—is what bothers me most. I’ve started looking at my own problems and behavior, and I haven’t felt worse psychologically since I began this process of self-reflection. So what do we do with that? What is the price of self-awareness? How can you motivate someone to be truthful with themselves when the truth is so much more awful than the illusions we create to hide it?

I guess living in a small bubble, unpressured by society, can create this monster—one with the right to destroy and devour, whose capture is so hard to arrange. But once you open the door to self-awareness, you can start practicing empathy for yourself. You can be kinder about the mistakes you’ve made and stop constantly bashing yourself for the past. Look forward. Forgive yourself. Develop empathy for characters like Martha and Donny.

And maybe, in that process, you’ll start forgiving yourself a little more.

And how impressive is it that shows like Beef and Baby Reindeer exist, and we can talk about these topics openly? I love the trans character; she was so fucking beautiful. To show her as a victim of hate and societal oppression, while painting her as a fucking hero who just stands up and moves forward, was incredible to see. I had to research her just to see if she was an actual trans person, and I actually congratulate Netflix for using a real trans person for this role, which, in my opinion, was vital for the success of the show. Nava Mau as Teri is refreshing and powerful, bringing a raw and authentic energy to the role that makes her portrayal unforgettable.

Iliya Badev