When I was a kid watching reruns of the first season of Avatar: The Last Airbender, my favorite episode was undoubtedly The Storm.

In the episode, audiences find out why Zuko was sent on a seemingly futile mission to find the Avatar. His father, Fire Lord Ozai, had banished him for speaking out of turn at a war meeting. In a flashback, Zuko cries out for mercy to his cruel father. The moment is undoubtedly moving, even when I watch it again today.

Avatar: The Last Airbender hit Nickelodeon in 2005 and ran for three seasons to critical and commercial success. The fantasy cartoon spawned a follow-up series (Legend of Korra), a live-action movie that we dont talk about, and a whole bunch of merchandise. Demonstrating the shows staying power and the ever-present desire for nostalgia, Paramount+ is currently developing three movies based on the franchise, and Netflix has its own live-action version in the works 14 years after the original aired.

Today I wonder if there was another reason a fire-throwing cartoon prince resonated so deeply with me as a kid.

Perhaps Zukos story spoke to the same way I was constantly walking on eggshells in my own home. Punishments were doled out swiftly for losing games that I didnt realize I was playing. While I was never banished to a wintry abyss, I knew what lashing out, manipulation and gaslighting all looked like even if I didnt have the words for it at the time.

I knew what it meant for love to be conditional. When I begged my father to stop calling me a failure through my locked bathroom door, it was my hand that ended up scarring myself. My own emotional mangling was clear from a young age, and I ended up taking myself to a therapist at the National Health Service in the U.K. alone at age 16 for depression, self-harm and anxiety.

I didnt watch the entire TV series until I got to college. The Zuko I saw in earlier seasons was one driven by rage, fear and pain. But over the course of the show, Zuko makes the crucial decision to hold himself accountable and be good.