Agent Carter and Conventions

I was going to write a full long report of the weekend and all its ups and downs, but I think that that would probably be a post for another day. I’ve spent days thinking about what to say about it, because I’d think it’s pretty clear to anyone with eyes what an amazing time I had and how much I loved it. I make no apologies for my enjoyment of TV shows and movies. Anyone who judges me for this, well you can just stop reading now because you don’t even deserve to be dignified with a response. I know that there must be people out there questioning why I am so passionate about a TV show, why I am so passionate about particular characters. Even if I write it all down, you still will not be able to understand just how much all of this means to me.

I have problems with anxiety and depression. I am on medication for these problems. Most recently these problems stem from having a chronic pain disorder (if you didn’t know that, where have you been). However there have been other things too that have contributed, including the fact that I am an overwhelming perfectionist. It’s crippling, to be quite frank. Perfectionism and chronic pain are not a good mix.

During my second year of university I was extremely depressed due to the pain I was in. I struggled to attend lectures, and when I did attend my concentration would waver after about 5 minutes. I became a compulsive drinker of tea, because it was the only thing that could help me to focus and get through the lectures that made me want to cry on a daily basis. The warmth helped to ease some of the pain, and trying not to tip it despite having such poor grip kept my attention in the room. It was horrendous, and my grades pretty matched up with that. They were on the floor, and no matter how hard I worked I just could not seem to get them to pick up. I went to my tutor and asked advice, I got extensions and worked tirelessly, but it was still the same low marks.

By the end of February 2015, just after getting my winter exam results, I thought I couldn’t take any more. I thought that I would have to give up the course and my dream of being an Educational Psychologist because I just wasn’t cut out for it. I mean come on, my grades were not what they should have been. One night, just after getting back another disappointing essay, I stumbled across this new TV show. It was coming to the end of its’ first series and I was fascinated by the premise of one woman taking on the world and winning, which was something that I so clearly wasn’t doing at that time. The show was called Agent Carter, and the reviews were fantastic.

So having seen the first Captain America film and really liking the character of Peggy Carter, the strong SSR agent whose first introduction in the film is her knocking a man out for being disrespectful, I decided to give it a go. I got hold of the season and started to watch. I watched the entire series in 2 days (admittedly at that point it was only 7 episodes) and was able to watch episode 8 just an hour after it aired in the States. I was hooked. There was this incredible strong and passionate woman fighting the good fight, standing up for the little guy and kicking ass in a pencil skirt and a pair of high heels. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Not to mention the disabled character who was still able to kick ass, who still fought on and was a good and driven person. Behind the perfectly written characters though was the acting, oh the acting. It is a craft that I have long been fascinated by, going back to when I was very tiny and watching some amazing funny and intelligent people work on stage. I don’t even know how I can describe my feelings on the acting in this show, because there are too many star performances to count. It’s just extraordinary watching the way in which these people are able to morph into different characters like chameleons. I have never been made to cry as hard or for as long as I cried at the scene when Peggy pours the blood of the love of her life off the Brooklyn Bridge and says her goodbyes. At the point of watching this, I had been ready to scream with anger over an essay that just would not come out. Instead, I found myself wracked with sobs, to the point that I actually had to pause the show until I had stopped crying for long enough to carry on watching. This is the depth of the emotion that was washing over me. It was an extraordinary feeling.

But there was something in there that helped me to prick up my ears just a little, to help my brain begin to engage again. It happened very slowly, but the next essay that I submitted having watched the show got a 2:1 — my first 2:1 of the year. Slowly, I was managing to come back to myself, driven by the powerful force of this incredible fictional character and her expression of “I know my value, anyone else’s opinion doesn’t really matter”. I cannot explain to you how important that was for me, I know that many people won’t understand but that reminder that actually I am worth something, that I have value, was enough to help me re-engage with my degree. It was enough to push me onwards through my exams with pass marks high enough to get on to my placement year.

I can quite honestly say that I would not be where I am today without Agent Carter. I would not be doing work that I love and I would not have had my passion for psychology reignited. Instead, I imagine I would be lying down under the pain and refusing to even try. I owe everything to this TV show and to this magnificent fictional character who has inspired SO many people (men, women and children from all different walks of life) to know their value.

So as you can imagine, when I had the opportunity to meet the cast of the show, particularly Hayley Atwell who plays Peggy herself, I leapt at the opportunity. These are the people who pulled my life back for me when, no matter how hard we tried, neither myself or the people physically around me could. I have a special connection to these people, despite the fact that they are unaware of just how much they have given me. How could they know? I am just one small person in a sea of fans. That didn’t deter me, because I wanted to see these people in the flesh. I can’t explain the drive to people who have never experienced it, and I honestly feel for those who have never had a passion in their lives. On this occasion, my passion took me to Blackpool.

I was terrified. I had a full blown shut down anxiety attack in the middle of the Norbreck Hotel on the Friday night just due to the prospect of being near these people. These people who I hold so so dear to my heart. There was no conscious thought, just a deep rooted terror that stuck me to the spot and took 3 friends, a cuddly Felicity (from Arrow- still no idea, sorry Beth!) and Sean saying that Hayley wouldn’t be there that night to bring me back down. Still, that nervous energy never left because I was going to be there with them.

On the Saturday morning I was shaking like a leaf; I was terrified of being near this woman who had made such a huge impact on me. There is no way you can convey the depths of your gratitude in a 30 second meet. When I first saw her, I made a noise that I imagine only dogs could hear. I just couldn’t believe it. Many many thanks to the wonderful stewards and people around me in the queue who helped to keep me calm, because I was SO not calm. It turned out that she had been there for the trio photos with Enver (who plays Daniel Sousa, the kickass disabled character) and Bridget who plays Dottie, the first Black Widow. Now, as I imagine most people am aware, I am very decidedly bisexual. It just so happened that my interest at this moment was not at all on Enver, although he is an incredibly attractive and super nice man. I didn’t even process the fact that Hayley was still in the room when I got to Bridget for my photo with her. All I could see what this incredible chameleon in front of me, and I was seriously struggling to place the smiley bubbly lady with the stone cold assassin. In fact, having watched a huge amount of her work, I was struggling to connect the person in front of me with any of her work at all. That is just a testament to the incredible talent of the lady. She was being so lovely to everyone, but I could literally feel myself curling over with anxiety at being near her. She’s beautiful- I still can’t quite believe the fact that I could be near someone so beautiful. My anxiety must have been more prevalent than I realised though, because as I approached her she kind of put her hands together and just went “Awwwwww” before greeting me. I was so overwhelmed in the moment, all I can really remember is the sensation of her hair against my face (very soft and fluffy, in case you’re wondering). I don’t remember anything else but on looking at the picture I fell in love with it.

Then I got a photo with Enver, so had to get back into a queue in the same room. It was then that I noticed her tucked away in the corner and I nearly fell over. As much as I love Enver, and I love my photo with him, my mind was very much on the gorgeous woman on her phone and chattering as the photo was taken. I queued again, and couldn’t take my eyes off her all the way along the queue until suddenly it was my turn and I was actually terrified. My initial reaction on seeing her properly was how tiny she is, her waist is MINISCULE. That led to a slight issue in me misjudging how far around her my arm went however, so I really hope that wasn’t awkward. She was just so soft and beautiful, and she complimented me on my shirt to which I somehow managed to stammer out a thank you… I absolutely adore my picture with her, even though I’m tipping my chin up a bit weirdly. Just… I don’t remember a huge amount because I was literally shaking, and I had no idea what my face was doing, but my god I was so happy. I came away from the room, shook and cried for about 15 minutes before I managed to pull myself back together again. When you admire someone so greatly, and have SO much that you owe them even if they aren’t aware, it’s a pretty bizarre experience… I pretty much floated through the day then until it was time for my autograph with her, something which also filled me with a creeping sense of horror and fear because I would actually have to SAY something.

Once again, on this occasion I really do need to thank the beautiful people who were in the queue behind me and who talked to me, keeping me reasonably calm. I’m sure I came across as fairly hysterical, point blank refusing to get my print signed as well as my copy of ‘The Pride’ because there were so many in the queue (thank you for trying though, and not getting pissed off). Thank you for listening to me babble like a frightened toddler. When I finally got to her my anxiety was through the roof, my hands were starting to lock up with it and I was stumbling over words. I know it sounds ridiculous, but that’s what anxiety does to me. When the book was passed across to her, the momentary flash of confusion was pretty obvious. I had the book turned to the last page, her closing monologue (if it can be called that?) is one of the most incredibly powerful things I’ve ever heard, and I could see her flick her eyes over it, because it’s underlined from where I was reading through, before she turned it over and exclaimed “Aww The Pride!” At that point I think I managed to blurt out that between Agent Carter and The Pride (linked in with issues around sexuality etc) I am still here, and am where I am today. Then I ran away like a scared child and didn’t stop til I was right across the room again. It was one of the best but most anxiety inducing situations I’ve ever been in.

Then I went straight from their back for Bridget’s autograph, and I was still in a bit of a state. I genuinely didn’t know how to express what I wanted to without sounding creepy (ie thank her for playing the first lesbian I actually consciously saw on TV) but knew I wanted to say something. So after the obligatory ‘Hi’ etc etc I just kind of blurted out “I’m SO glad Rose (her character) isn’t dead!”. This was where the creepiest thing happened, because she finished signing my book, looked up at me and I swear to god I was looking at Rose rather than at Bridget, it was absolutely terrifying. I can’t explain what she did but her face just morphed into this character, and she said “She’s like a cat with 9 lives” to which I said that she can never die, and got the response to tell the show-runner that, which I did just FYI. It was so eerie, because I still struggle to think about that and be able to place her in those few seconds with the person in my photo. She is an extraordinary actress. Just… My god.

The panels were amazing as I had expected, and I won’t really say anything about those because they were just overall fantastic — it was amazing to hear them talk about their characters. I am forever grateful to be a fan of such beautifully open people- listening to Bridget talk about the issues surrounding the death of LGBT women on TV at around the time that Rose “died” was amazing because I genuinely felt like she understood and cared?

Anyway, Sunday morning. I woke up in agony with my hands and could have cried at the unfairness of it, because this weekend was supposed to be about fun and not about being in agony. Well, because of that, I decided that I was just going to throw everything to the wind and get another picture with Bridget because why the fuck not. It would cheer me up and hopefully the endorphins would help reduce the pain. Did they hell, my god it was like they all melted away. When I got to her she was so sweet and bubbly once again, and when I managed to stammer out my request for a hug her “Yeah” genuinely sounded like *obviously* I could have a hug. Once again, her hair was incredibly soft. It was such a small thing, but it really helped to pick me up from quite a low place that morning. Then, when I got a copy of that photo, I nearly cried because I love it so much. I actually think that it’s my favourite from the entire weekend. Even as I was showing people, complete strangers were remarking on how happy I look in it, and that’s because I genuinely was. For that moment I was completely normal again, and able to embrace that moment and everything it meant to me. No-one, no matter how cynical or judgemental, can ever take that away from me.

So yeah, this turned into more of an essay than I expected but I really felt that it needed to be said. It means a lot to me. So thank you to all of the stewards and people in the queues that had my back. Thank you to Sean for allowing me to have this incredible opportunity in the first place. Most of all, however, thank you to Hayley and Bridget for allowing me to be where I am today, and for allowing me to feel normal for once in my life. I might be a little eccentric, but I love my life. I love it even more having been able to be near the light of these two incredibly talented people who I love so much and who mean so much to me.