A20 O THEGLOBEANDMAIL| THURSDAY,OCTOBER24,
M
ainstream TV keeps chugging along. You
can have your high-concept, premium-ca-
ble and movie-star-filled streaming shows.
But loads of people want to see a comedy or
a police procedural on old-fashioned TV. There’s still
gas in that tank.
At the plush offices in Los Angeles where such deci-
sions are made, some honchos recently took a break
from denying that gender-pay issues and sexual ha-
rassment exist to renew some newly launched shows.
This is an interesting point in the TV season. Ratings
and reviews tell the honchos what people are watching
and liking. It also tells us about the cultural currents
that are flowing.
CBS is adding new episodes and giving full-season
endorsements to a whole bunch of shows. Among
them areEvil(Thursday, CBS and Global, 10 p.m.),
which is a fascinating trip into religion-versus-science
via a procedural format. It has a 13-episode run and will
be back again next year. Also getting the backing of
more episodes areAll Rise,Carol’s Second Act,The Uni-
cornandBob Hearts Abishola.
Most of these are best described as comfort shows
with repetitive plots and mildly appealing characters.
By far the best of the bunch isThe Unicorn(Thursday,
CBS and Global, 8:30 p.m.). It looks on the surface like a
generic comedy, but it has a certain unique kind of wit
and warmth without ever being saccharine or dumb.
I’ve been enjoying it. And I know much of its charm
resides in the cast, especially the lead figure.
That’s Walton Goggins, who plays Wade, a dad to
two girls. His wife died a year ago and he’s been ultra-
occupied raising the girls, trying to make a living as a
contractor and trying to keep his little household hap-
py and fed. Wade’s not in denial. He’s just busy. So busy,
in fact, that he and the kids have been living off the
food given to him when his
wife died. As the series
opens – you can watch the
early episodes on Global’s
website in Canada – he’s
down to the last frozen la-
sagne in the freezer. One of
his friends refers to the
house as, “The Disney
Channel version ofGrey
Gardens.”
His pals tell him that
running out of the frozen
food is a sign. He’s got to get
out there, have a life and,
maybe, meet some new la-
dy friends. Reluctant, rattled by the fervour of their in-
terest, Wade finally goes along with their plan. He soon
discovers that a lot of women are interested in a wid-
ower. He is, as one neighbour suggests, “The Unicorn,
the elusive thing that every single woman is looking
for.”
It all goes awry, mostly. This is good to see, as a sit-
com about a widower/dad dating again has its limita-
tions. Wade expands as a character and is allowed to be
angry, grief-stricken, doltish, a devoted dad and just a
man carrying a burden.
Goggins is superb. He’s a formidable actor. InThe
Shieldand inJustified, two of the best drama series of
the past 20 years, he played strung-out, dangerous
men and was utterly plausible as figures that could ex-
plode in deranged anger and do terrible things to other
people. As a sitcom dad, he brings an acting range
that’s rare on a family-friendly CBS series. There’s real
depth to Wade and one can only assume Goggins was
interested in the role because it’s grounded, and Wade
is a man who is neither fool nor straight man for both
the mockery and the sympathy that’s aimed at him.
The supporting cast – Rob Corddry, Michaela Wat-
kins, Omar Miller, Maya Lynne Robinson – is also excel-
lent. Watkins, who was superb in Amazon Prime Vid-
eo’sTransparentand Hulu’sCasual, is especially strong
as a woman who wants to nourish Wade, but not too
much. Everyone involved grasps the deadpan nature
of the comedy and relishes the sharp wit, a kind of sub-
dued drollery that’s uncommon in network sitcoms.
It’s not going to blow your mind, this sitcom. But it
will remind you that it’s possible to see a clever comedy
about middle age, dating and parenting that never in-
sults your intelligence. In a way, the down-to-Earth,
emotional-but-funny quality toThe Unicornis the anti-
ThisIsUs. It has depth and wit and stands as a feel-good
show about families and people who make missteps
and have regrets. As for cultural currents, it’s a new
kind of nuanced look at a middle-aged man, one who
isn’t a brooding anti-hero or a complete fool, but recog-
nizably baffled and authentic.TheUnicornmakesfor
fine,unforcedcomedy
onold-fashionedTV
JOHN
DOYLEOPINIONTELEVISIONIt’s not going to
blow your mind, this
sitcom. But it will
remind you that it’s
possible to see a
clever comedy about
middle age, dating
and parenting that
never insults
your intelligence.M
y mom used to tease me that my first
words were: “I’ll do it myself.”
Maybe it was because I was an only
child, and spending hours alone left to
entertain myself cultivated an unhealthy desire to
be self-reliant, or maybe it’s just some unalterable
genetic composition completely out of my control.
Whatever it was, driven by some internal force, I was
fixated on proving that “I could handle it.”
My stubbornness and obstinance, which my
mother carefully rebranded as independence and
strong will, meant that I wanted – or rather, needed- to do everything on my own.
At 12, I was co-ordinating my swim-practice car-
pool schedule with the other moms and mapping
out my six-year plan to university. My parents were
thrilled. While their friends were hounding their
kids to finish their homework or stop watching TV,
mine were unbothered about whether or not I’d do
the right thing: They always assumed I would.
I wanted everyone to think I was ca-
pable, hoping if they believed it then I
would, too. Because despite all of my
efforts to appear flawless, I didn’t feel
like an ounce of it was true. On the
outside I presented a façade of con-
trol; on the inside, I felt as though a
thousand strings were pulling me in
all different directions and it was only
a matter of time before I fell apart.
As life became more complex, per-
fection became harder to achieve. I
felt like I was falling, and I had no idea
when I would hit the ground. Pan-
icked, I pushed myself harder while punishing my-
self more severely for my shortcomings.
But after years of unrelenting pressure, I was be-
ginning to crack.
Simple tasks felt nearly impossible. Brushing my
hair and eating three meals a day didn’t feel worth
it. So I stopped. I stopped playing sports and can-
celled my plans with friends, choosing instead to lie
in my bed as my brain thought about everything
and nothing at once.
The people who knew me didn’t recognize me.
My parents, once so confident in my abilities, were
scared. They took me to the doctor and after tests
and meetings and discussions I finally had my diag-
nosis: I was depressed. And anxious. All my indica-
tors were virtually off the charts.
I expected to feel liberated, like attaching a label
would somehow make it all better. Instead, it just
confirmed what I knew all along. I wasn’t well, and I
hadn’t been for a long time.
I went into treatment believing that if I took my
medication and went to appointments, my illness
would quickly subside. I used to be determined to
be the perfect student, the perfect child. Now, I was
determined to be the perfect patient. I processed ev-
erything while understanding nothing.
Despite doing everything I was told, reading ev-
ery wellness blog post about the “12 steps to happi-
ness,” I didn’t feel any less depressed. I still felt
hopeless, like a boat taking on water with no help in
sight. I was angry at myself, believing that it was my
own lack of strength and incapability that prevent-
ed me from overcoming my sickness.
I couldn’t envision a future in which anxiety and
depression didn’t rule my life. They had been a part
of me for so long I didn’t know who I was any more. I
felt out of control. My life was no longer my own. So,
just days before my 16th birthday, I tried to end it.
There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret
my actions. Regret letting myself follow down a dark
path for so long without calling for someone to help.
Regret for causing my parents, my friends and my
family so much pain and confusion.
I remember my parents, standing outside my
hospital room, speaking in hushed tones, trying not
to wake me. As if I could have slept. My dad sunk to
the floor. I’d never seen him cry before.
“How could we not have known?” his voice trem-
bled.
It’s not that there weren’t warning signs. No mat-
ter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep ev-
erything bottled up. It’s just that when
I did open up, if only a little, I was told
that my emotions were the product of
sickness, and with the right remedies,
I would get better. But there weren’t
words to describe what I was experi-
encing and I felt if I couldn’t relay it to
others, there was no way for anyone to
understand.
It wasn’t until I was sitting in the
hospital – admitting to my parents,
the doctors and myself that I realized
how harmful it was to internalize
what I was feeling. I kept everything locked inside of
me, never letting it out, hoping if I ignored it for long
enough it would go away. But if I never acknowl-
edged or dealt with what I felt, there was no way of
moving forward. My struggles kept mounting, and
eventually, I crumbled under the weight.
I had to reach the darkest point of my life to real-
ize that I couldn’t do everything on my own, and
that this was okay. I was not weak for admitting that
my woes were no longer something I could handle
by myself. I felt braver and stronger finally telling
someone what I had been going through than I had
spending years internalizing my suffering.
A year later, I’m still dealing with the ramifica-
tions of my suicide attempt, and of the years I spent
trying to achieve perfection. My parents still don’t
always know what to say. But they’re there, and
they’re trying.
Opening up to my loved ones has not meant that
my depression and anxiety are gone completely.
Overcoming mental illness is slow, agonizing and
filled with many turns and bumps in the road. There
are times I feel I’m going down a path that might not
lead to my final destination. But I know now that
I’m not alone. It took me a long time to learn this. To
learn that my shoulders do not have to carry all the
weight upon them, and I am no weaker for allowing
someone to share the load.Madigan Ruch lives in Toronto.PERFECTIONNEARLY
DESTROYEDME
ILLUSTRATION BY RACHEL WADADespitemyeffortstobeself-reliant,toappearflawless,Ifeltasthough
athousandstringswerepullingmeindifferentdirections.Itwasonly
amatteroftimebeforeIfellapart,MadiganRuchwritesFIRSTPERSONI couldn’t envision a
future where anxiety
and depression
didn’t rule my life.
They had been a
part of me for so
long I didn’t know
who I was any more.Have a story to tell? Please see the guidelines on our websitetgam.ca/essayguide,
and e-mail it [email protected]First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers| NEWSTODAY’SSUDOKUSOLUTIONTODAY’SKENKENSOLUTION