From “Nevermore” to “Not Today”: Thunderbolts, The Void, and Why Showing Up Still Matters

Last week, I shared my thoughts on The Raven. That poem has lived in my head since I was young, shaping how I understand the heavy days. Poe captured what it feels like to be swallowed by sorrow, how grief loops in on itself, and how the mind plays tricks when the only thing that answers back is your own despair . . .

But last week, something unexpected rapped on the door of that void: a blockbuster movie. Thunderbolts, the latest film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, may not look like a literary counterpoint, but it was powerfully so for me. I released these posts in a series because I want to talk about why.

Sebastian Stan plays Bucky Barnes, an Avengers elder known as The Winter Soldier. This morally complex character has a challenging arc, but when it's time to show up in Thunderbolts, he arrives epically. Photos Courtesy of: Disney/Marvel Studios

Thunderbolts is an anti-hero flick featuring former villains, near-do-wells, and flops, each carrying pasts that haunt them and actively shape their present. They don't start as a team. They don't show up shiny and certain. They’re bruised, guarded, grieving, and a little bit dangerous, even to themselves.

But they show up for each other. And that matters.

If you’ve ever wrestled with depression, anxiety, dissociation, or just the bone-deep weariness of trying to survive a broken system, you might see yourself in them.

Let's get this over with: Yes, Thunderbolts made me laugh, and yes it made me cry (though snort and snot would be more accurate descriptions). Why? The portrayal of what it’s like to sink into that void and and claw your way back toward connection was some of the most honest I’ve seen in a big budget release. It hit for me personally, and it hit for me culturally because that emptiness affects millions.

Since I watched this fictional team of broken people show up for each other, real-life funding for mental health support in the U.S. rolled back, again. My incredibly helpful and talented therapist was laid off this week. Federal funding has been withdrawn from support agencies to quietly dismantle our essential systems.

Empathy is Not Illness

I am over the term “mental illness" to describe reasonable, human reactions to our aggressively divisive culture. Depression and anxiety aren’t failures. They’re warning lights on society's dashboard. In our case, the society preys on human nature rather than nurture humans.

Under these circumstances, showing up anyway is an act of rebellion. Because that voice in your head that says, “It doesn’t matter. Things will never change.” . . . that was put there and is reinforced by the control-class.

We're supposed to feel like it’s pointless to try.

Like our voices don't matter.

We're supposed to descend into burnout, isolation, and silence.

Like we are pinned to the floor under an authoritarian shadow.

In Marvel lore, the Winter Soldier has been isolated, drugged, manipulated, weaponized, and scapegoated by governments and power brokers. Even when he's shot down and defeated, he shows up to do the right thing. Again. Again. Again. Character Animation Courtesy of: Disney/Marvel Studios | Marvel Rivals

The Truth as I See It

Our would-be-corporate-overlords call empathy the mark of broken people - because whole, we are dangerous. There are far more Americans who struggle with the effects of injustice, profiteering, and hate than there are crooks hording our wealth and resources.

They're afraid. They're afraid we're going to show up anyway, armed and dangerous. Armed with compassion and intelligence. Armed with truth. They're afraid we're going to show up again, again, and again.

We don’t need to be perfect. We are the people, and we already matter.

Call to Action

Take care of yourself.

If you’re like me, and your support systems are fraying - hold tight to whatever you can. Make a plan. Make space. Remind yourself that you are doing your best. And that is enough.

When you're able, take care of each other.

On the days when you have energy to share, check in on your friends. Hold the darkness with them and battle it together. Even in the MCU, the time for arrogance and grandeur is over. The time for compassion and support is now.

When you’re able, Resist.

Push back. Speak up. Don't lie down under tyrannical shadows and grieve for a country that is still breathing.

Don’t make it easy for those who benefit from the people's silence. We weren’t meant to be controlled. We are meant to live, to connect, to feel, and to fight for each other when it matters most.

In a world that echoes “Nevermore,” we can answer back: "Not today."

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