~Validity~ or ‘How I Watched 180 Episodes of Power Rangers To The Detriment of Everything Else’
Folks, I have a personal story to tell. It goes a little something like this:
Mighty Morphin Power Rangers is a 1993 American action television program for literal children. It’s a hodgepodge of recycled footage from the long-running Japanese action series Super Sentai — consisting of over-the-top robot fights and special effects- with original footage of angsty kids in high school reminiscent of sitcoms such as Saved by the Bell and Boy Meets World.
That improbable combination makes Power Rangers — a show about 5 (at the beginning) teenagers (questionable) with attitude (also questionable) that have superpowers and big dinosaur robots (accurate).
A typical 20-minute episode is as follows: the eponymous Rangers are having fun in their favourite juice bar in Angel Grove Community Centre, in Angel Grove, Ambiguous, United States. All is peachy until malevolent cosmic prestidigitator Rita Repulsa and her gang of goons decide they’ve had enough of it and want to come up with a scheme to foil these teens.
This usually consists of:
(a) summoning a monster loosely based around a theme-of-the-week e.g. the one about cleaning up rubbish has the Polluticorn; an episode set around a cultural food festival has the gluttonous Pudgy Pig
And that’s it really. They don’t really differentiate it beyond that.
The villain-of-the-week comes down to cause mischief and the rangers put on their super-powered spandex; A battle ensues. The tide turns for the rangers until, suddenly, the monster grows gargantuan.
At which point the rangers combine their giant dinosaur-themed robots into the MegaZord: a hulking, motley-chassis’d mechanical mass of, for lack of a better term, big stuff that can kick ass and/or take names. Mostly the former.
The MegaZord kicks said ass and takes said names. The rangers rejoice while Rita Repulsa groans in agony. The credits roll.
This repeats ad nauseum for uh, around 28 years. There’s been numerous different iterations that swap out the dinosaurs for ninjas, space, more dinosaurs and race cars! Each one having the same gist of “5+ adolescents beat up the big bad guy.”
Calling back to the “it’s for literal children” point I made earlier, I really want to drive that home. The target age at most is up to 11 years old and you can’t say it doesn’t know its audience. The “plot” is wafer-thin, as are the characters, dialogue and any form of cinematography it might have.
Furthermore, the brand entirely exists to sell brightly coloured toys to bratty children who have tired of having keys dangled in front of them. Those poor parents just want to shove a big kaleidoscopic plastic mess in front of their offspring and Power Rangers fills that void. It’s shallow, it’s capitalistic, it’s kinda shite.
I love it.
No hyperbole, this show is terrible. It’s made on a shoestring budget and it shows. I became fascinated at how a show that, at one point was the biggest thing on earth yet still looked like it was made on the thinnest allowance possible. A show that was watched by millions of children around the world was getting by on the fact that it was for kids and shouldn’t put any more effort into it.
There are countless production errors, especially during the first three seasons. You’ll get instances where the completely wrong footage is used during the giant robot fights that the showrunners don’t even make the slightest effort to conceal.
It’s got an even more fascinating production history where, despite the popularity, the showrunners at Saban Entertainment were refusing to pay the actors a proper wage and holding up unionisation efforts. This led to possibly one of the strangest periods of television I watched where the show had to make 10 episodes of re-used footage in as many creative ways as possible to mask the fact that three of their biggest stars had left.
This was accomplished using old footage, impressions of the old actors by dubbing or uh...
Bizarre enjoyment aside, I began to notice some patterns when I was watching the show. Patterns about myself.
In the past two months, I’ve consumed all 145 episodes of the original three seasons of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and its movie; 10 episodes of the (even worse) side-series Mighty Morphin Alien Rangers; and I am currently at the mid-way point of the 52-episode sequel series Power Rangers Zeo.
Every time I watched an episode of Mighty Morphin, I’d read over the tongue-in-cheek appraisal of Samurai Karasu’s Ranger Retrospective (I stole all the screenshots from there). It discussed parallels between Mighty Morphin and the Japanese series it borrowed footage from (Zyuranger, Dairanger and Kakuranger for Seasons 1, 2 and 3 respectively), as well as production gaffes, behind the scenes trivia and cultural context of the early-mid-90s.
After every episode, I’d look across the Wikia page for Power Rangers, scanning pages up and down for tidbits or rabbit holes about aspects of this puerile show that people somehow found the effort to analyse. I’ve been looking at the different games, comics and other media that encompasses the entire franchise just so I can sink my teeth into this more.
At least once a week, I’ll have the Youtube video that compiles all 20+ theme tunes from the series playing just to get a kick out of it. I reinstalled the downright terrible Power Rangers Time Force game I had when I was five. I played it the entire time I was in the hospital when my sister was born. I have more memories of that than the actual new sibling (sorry sis).
When I’m having trouble sleeping at night, I put on a podcast that discusses the episode I watched earlier that day, or several weeks ago. You get the gist.
This show became integral to my daily routine, as much as eating and sleeping. I’d wake up each day knowing I could watch more episodes.
If this is all starting to sound a bit cracked; Whoops! I mean, that was my intention when I realised I was going to over-share on the internet today but upon writing this out, I didn’t think I would embarrass myself this much.
I have enough self-awareness to know that to dedicate this much time and effort to a silly little program as someone who’s nearly 24 is not the healthiest thing in the world. Hell, before I would’ve sneered at someone watching a soap opera, wrestling or TV shows of inconsistent quality like Doctor Who or Supernatural. Look at me now! Pot meet kettle!!!
The truth is: I have been acutely aware of how bad this is since I started. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a bit of junk food entertainment, free of pretension and commitment. But what happens when you can’t stop?
I’m at the tail end of my Masters in Journalism course and as of writing, have not made adequate progress on my major project due at the end of June. I also have to secure an internship for credits that will allow me to complete this degree. Needlessly to say, I’ve had no luck with that yet and time is running out.
My assignments this semester are definitely lacking in preparation and quality, with one, in particular, being done in an entire day. This caused me to get it in only 16 seconds before the midnight deadline. I had at least two months to get it done. I get decent grades, but my work ethic (or lack thereof) really takes it out of me.
My sleep schedule has degraded majorly since I often stay up late and wake up late. My appetite hasn’t been ruined, but I definitely lose track of time and forget to eat lunch most of the days.
Most of all, I feel guilty. I want to beat myself up for having next to no motivation to do anything besides watch a bad tv show. I can press play and be absorbed for twenty minutes, but I can’t fill out a form that would take me less than one.
I’m irritable when it comes to small talk, and I get annoyed when I don’t have control of the conversation or the people don’t share the same level of interest as me. People would probably still say I’m pretty pleasant to get along with, but my mind is a tornado of mixed feelings and impatience.
When I’m on my own, I have to play some form of media to stop any negative, intrusive thoughts from coming in. One thought sets off a chain reaction of another thought and it continues until my head can’t take it anymore.
On Friday, April 9th — two days after the birthday of my primary school friend Tadgh who I haven’t talked to in like, 13 years yet I still remember that fact (happy belated birthday Tadgh)- I arrived for my assessment for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, also known as P̶A̶Y̶E Y̶M̶C̶A̶ B̶Y̶O̶B̶ N̶O̶R̶A̶D̶ ADHD.
That’s the big twist of this essay: my brain is broken! Goodnight folks!
And it’s all thanks to a stupid tv show for babies!
Unfortunately, I knew it wasn’t that simple. The bigger twist is that my obsession isn’t a one-off. It’s only the latest in a series of whatever my brain decides to latch onto that day, week, month or even year.
I have quite vivid recollections of sitting at the old family computer for hours on end, from dawn to dusk, reading the plot summaries for horror b-movies I was far too young to watch. I would’ve done this for weeks. If you wanted to, I could probably regale you with the intricacies of Gingerdead Man 2: Passion of the Crust, Killer Condom and Puppet Master 4 but I don’t have the articulation nor the robust security system to keep you folk from running away from me.
As well as that, I would have holed myself in my house on warm summer days playing video games all day; staying in the same position for long hours without even taking breaks. I’d uninstall and reinstall programs on my computer just because I couldn’t get enough of watching completion bars going up to 100%, as well as spending hours searching for new computer programs (that I really didn’t need) to install for the sake of installing.
I could go on, but a running thread is that these obsessions would stay in my head long after doing them. Once I tired myself out, my mind would race with thoughts of doing those same activities the very next day. No matter how dull it could be, I needed to do them.
People call these ‘hyperfixations’. Hyperfixations can sometimes lead to a state of “hyperfocus”, a state of intense focus or attention on one very particular thing. Sometimes people might call these special powers, allowing some to read literature at lightning speed for ten hours, or the ability to complete chores or important tasks at a rapid pace.
It’s frustrating when I see stuff like that, because mine are usually quite debilitating. I’m pleased for anyone with atypical brains that are able to utilise it well; but I can’t stand the neurotypical insistence that this is purely a “gift”.
Again, it’s the guilt. I want to focus more on my work, I want to improve my relationships with friends and family, and I want to commit to long term projects. If I tell my brain to do something, it becomes productive for something completely different. The Power Rangers obsession started as a thought of “hmm, what about that show I watched as a kid” when I was doing an assignment, and has snowballed into what I described above. It doesn’t feel like a gift to me.
Amongst other reasons such as bad short term memory, fidgeting and restlessness, slow processing speed and general inattentiveness, I completed my assessment. I received the diagnosis of ADHD Combined Type a few weeks later, meaning I have a mix of hyperactive and inattentive traits.
It’s one of the biggest reliefs I’ve had in a long time. For years I’ve been insecure about my intelligence and work ethic, and that while I had the potential of my peers, I constantly felt like I was falling behind. It became most evident in secondary school when I realised I couldn’t prioritise homework or studying, and I could only get things completed at the very last minute.
I thought I was lazy, and that I didn’t really care about anything beside my special interests. A common misconception about ADHD is that you don’t have the ability to maintain interest or attention on something at all. In reality, people with ADHD have issues regulating that attention.
In fact, once I learned this I started being less hard on myself for watching dumb shows like Power Rangers. But then once my brain accepted that, it switched gears into not watching that anymore and focusing on something else entirely. I can’t relax because my brain is switching to different areas of focus without my control and I desperately want to have something to hold onto.
I want to instruct my brain about a thing I would like to do; this could be a movie, a book, a chore, a project, a social engagement etc. and I want to stick with it. This probably sounds like a minor thing but it tears me apart. It’s exhausting. Every simple decision becomes a monumental task, as I have to constantly play 20 questions with myself: do I really care about this; am I just being lazy; am I looking for excuses; why is everyone else capable and I am not.
I want to feel like I am in control of my executive functions for once in my life. It hurts.
I had to accept that my neurodivergent way of thinking was here to stay. Although I will be looking into medical treatment, I know it can only help with so much. Medicine won’t solve all my problems, but they can definitely put me in the right direction.
On the topic of medical treatment, Ireland has horrendous facilities for those with adult ADHD. Assessments are at least €600 depending on who you ask. On top of that, there is basically next to nothing in regards to mental health treatment of ADHD, with some still being still under the remit of children’s services well into their 20s. The HSE only announced a programme for treating adults with ADHD in January of this year.
The alternative is going to private psychiatrists for medication, and I don’t think I need to describe how quickly that money will add up.
It’s a microcosm of Ireland’s inadequate facilities for mental health. Instead of proper funding of these services on a public level, this government and governments of the past have delegated these duties to non-profits that are not always equipped to handle every mental health crisis. It’s disgraceful and the government should rightly be ashamed for years of neglect. Darkness that turns into light is not effective if the power keeps going out.
These are all problems I know have to deal with, and I’m unsure how things are going to turn out. I’ll keep people updated as much as possible but hopefully, I’ll get those meds sooner rather than later. For now, I can take solace knowing that I’ve already reached one of my milestones.
Getting a diagnosis helps with one of the most overlooked aspects of mental health: validation.
Labels can be restrictive for many, but they also have the potential for liberation. One of the most reassuring things I can be told is that it’s not my fault. It’s not my fault for how other people treat me, it’s not my fault for a world that seems constantly against me, and it’s not my fault for my brain being the way it is. This is how I’m made, and I deserve happiness as much as anyone else.
It’s easy to fall into the trap of browbeating oneself, equating it to self-improvement when all you’re doing is making yourself more miserable. I know I’ve been at the mercy of my own intrusive thoughts, and to have someone, a psychologist I’ll probably never see again, tell me that I am valid? That’s reassurance like no other.
If you’re reading this, and you think that you have an undiagnosed mental health condition, I want you to know that I believe you if no one else will. Diagnosis is a privilege I was able to afford. Getting it means I can now access medication to treat my condition and can avail of support options. But the real reason is for me to accept myself for who I am. I’m extremely lucky to have been offered an opportunity like this, and I know that anyone who has to self-diagnose is just as, if not more valid. You’re always going to know your mind better than any medical professional will, regardless of what assessments and tests you go through.
It’s not up to me to decide what mental health conditions are to people. For some, they see them as burdens that hold them back, and for others, they can harness those conditions in helpful and enlightening ways.
Behind every person with a mental health condition is power.
Power isn’t your ability to consume vast amounts of media without difficulty nor sporadic bouts of productivity. Power is your endurance to conquer challenges that stop you from reaching your own personal goals. Power is why you’re still here.
And to paraphrase Zordon, the all-knowing floating galactic space wizard and mentor of the Power Rangers, the superhero team seen in the hit children’s TV series, media empire and big brain megafranchise Mighty Morphin Power Rangers:
May that power protect you.
