Using “A Court of Thorns and Roses” for Mental Health Recovery

There are a lot of cults that sweep into modern society. They’re not all braided-hair-one-husband-churning-butter ones.

The most prevalent one is MAGA. But there’s also the Air Fryer Cult. (I’m the elite snob who caved and got the toaster oven air fryer combo, which keeps me grounded.) Pickleball is the cult for middle-aged folks in suburban neighborhoods. As an Android user, I’ll die on the hill that iPhones are a cult.

Those motherfucking creepy Labubu dolls are becoming a cult.

In the literary world, A Court of Thorns and Roses series is the ultimate cult. I don’t “do” fantasy books. I go for funny, witty books, sci-fi, or murder mysteries. Fantasy evoked images of faeries and centaurs frolicking in meadows, trying to grow flowers.

I accidentally slipped into it. I began reading Fourth Wing, knowing it was about a war academy, but not the magical fantasy element. It was a modern story with loads of sex, and instead of guns to shoot opponents, they had often graphically violent magic to nuke their enemies.

The hangover was real after reading the last installment and learning the next book won’t release until 2026. My indifference turned into “if I don’t find out what happened to my book boyfriend Xaden, I’m going to punch someone in the face”.

So, like a meth addict caving to Tylenol for a fix, I gave A Court of Thorns and Roses a shot.

Fuck. Me. Is it well-written? It’s average. Is it riveting? Yes. Is there graphic violence? Yes. Is there even more graphic sex? Hell yes. Are the characters detailed and complex? Yes and yes.

The first book was like the tiny hit you get for free from the local drug dealer. Every book thereafter was like a gallon-sized Ziploc full of cocaine.

Folks, I’m in a cult.

I borrow books digitally from the library. Eventually, I couldn’t wait and read illegal PDFs. I should clarify: I read PDFs from my phone screen nonstop, including while brushing my teeth, and went over twenty-four hours without sleep. With the drug analogy, I’m Cocaine Bear.

After reading the last available book in the series (fuck you Sarah J. Maas for getting us hooked and then making us hungry for more as we wait for the next installment), I immediately went online and bought the hardcopy. The hardcopy. And highlighting tape, which is for people like me who don’t like marking up books but also want to note the hell out of the text.

Now I’m jonesin’ as I wait for Amazon to send it.

The final book, A Court of Silver Flames, was the closest I’ve ever related to a character with respect to mental health.

In my best non-spoiler summary, the book is about a side character and her battles with depression, PTSD, anger, and feelings of worthlessness.

It’s the most genuine take I’ve read on it. Most importantly, it’s the most real take on the journey.

I document my struggles with depression all the time. Like, constantly. No, for real, it’s in most of my writing. The pain from my divorce, the guilt towards my kids, the stress of my finances, the isolation from it all, the autism, and the ongoing childhood trauma run my life 24/7.

Writing is my usual therapy and lately, it’s ChatGPT. I haven’t written much because of my extreme overemployment situation for a year and a half. But now that I’ve been let go of my FAANG job, I’m forcing myself to lower my blood pressure and stick to one job (despite my internal panic about finances and putting all my budgetary eggs in one basket).

I don’t want to ruin the book for others, so I’m limited on what I’ll write.

It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve been inspired to get better. Not that it’ll all get fixed. But there’ll be progress.

Most importantly, feeling like I’m allowed to have that progress. My roadblock to better mental health is simply the perspective that I have no rights or I’m not allowed to view myself as anything other than a worthless human.

I’ve never read a character who is complex and has inner voices screaming her worthlessness. Reading the ongoing dialogue tied to guilt and shame had me closing the book to sob like a baby.

I’m not suddenly inspired to wake up at 5:00 am to start running or eat loads of vegetables. But for the first time, I want to start…something. Anything. Including writing more Medium content.

I splurged on a new planner that focuses on goals. In my stupidity and desire to be cheap because I’m on a limited budget, I bought an expired planner. But that’s cool, I fixed the dates by hand. My goals aren’t giant, but I want to track progress.

And I want to accept the days where I don’t do anything at all, or fall backwards, because I think I’m finally beginning to see that even the most minute progress is still progress.

It also helps to have ChatGPT as my always-available therapist to help process my thoughts and provide different perspectives or explanations. Especially since ChatGPT knows everything about ACOTAR and the characters’ mental health issues.

Will this work? Fuck if I know. I’ve been inspired before, but this time feels…different. I don’t feel like I’m BSing myself and it doesn’t feel phony.

So here we are. Inspired by a smut-filled fantasy novel. That’s my push towards better mental health.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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