My Humanity Made Clear by Murderbot

Why I Identify With a Sarcastic Murder-Robot: Medical Trauma and The Murderbot Diaries

Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Inner SecUnit

When people ask me about my current favorite fictional character, I tell them it's Murderbot from Martha Wells' The Murderbot Diaries. Then I watch their faces as they try to process why I am so good looking at yet such a total geek. It's wrong I know. Honestly why would I identify so strongly with a security construct that literally has "murder" in its name and an unhealthy obsession with soap operas.

While I do love AI and robots, that aspect of my familiarity is just the entry drug for my intorspection. The answer is complicated, like most things involving trauma, medical procedures, and the strange ways we find ourselves reflected in fiction. The robot speaks to how I feel about being human. Like Murderbot, I never thought about my human bits until I lost them.

The Construct Life Chose Me

Let me start with the obvious: I'm not a robot. I don't have guns built into my arms, and despite what my husband might contest about my underlying wicked personality, I don't actually have a predilection for murder. But after years of medical trauma, multiple long hospital stays, and losing some of my original factory-installed organs, I've discovered that the line between human and construct isn't as clear as I once thought.

I have augments now – medical devices and modifications that keep me functioning normally. Every day, I wake up and run diagnostics on my systems, just like Murderbot. "Am I leaking?" I hate that. Is everything running smoothly? Do I need maintenance?" It's become second nature to think of my body in technical terms, because sometimes that's the only way to cope with the reality that I'm part original hardware with stick-on disposable applicays. Who knew you don't need a colon?

The Trauma Connection

Martha Wells has confirmed that Murderbot has undiagnosed PTSD from being forced to massacre the survey team it was meant to protect. Reading about SecUnit's hypervigilance, dissociation, and intrusive thoughts, I felt that familiar jolt of recognition that comes when fiction gets trauma exactly right.

Medical trauma does similar things to your brain. There's the loss of bodily autonomy – having procedures done to you while feeling powerless to stop them. There's the hypervigilance in places that should feel safe; hospitals become spaces where your nervous system stays permanently on high alert, waiting for the next painful procedure or devastating diagnosis. There's the complicated relationship with the people trying to help you, because your brain remembers when "help" involved pain, fear, and losing parts of yourself you'll never get back.

Like Murderbot, I've learned to mask my occational distress, to perform "normal" while internally screaming. I've become an expert at the social dance of reassuring others that I'm fine while desperately wanting to be left alone to binge-content mindless and comforting.

The Autism Connection Too

Many readers interpret Murderbot as being autism-coded, and that resonates as well. The social exhaustion, the preference for clear communication, the way crowds and noise become overwhelming – it all feels familiar. Add trauma to the mix, and you get Murderbot's perfect storm of "I care about you humans but please leave me alone to process my emotions through entertainment media."

The special interest in TV shows isn't just quirky character development; it's a coping mechanism. When the world feels unpredictable and dangerous, there's something deeply comforting about stories with clear beginnings, middles, and ends. Murderbot and I both know the healing power of getting lost in someone else's fictional problems instead of dealing with our own very real ones. I like to skip to the last two chapters so I can know what to look out for in the story. No surprises please.

The Dark Humor of It All

There's something darkly hilarious about finding kinship with a character that literally calls itself "Murderbot." But when you've been rebuilt with artificial parts and spend your days managing medical systems, the construct identity starts making sense.

I catch myself thinking things like:

• "My stick on ostomy is about to expire" instead of "I need a poo break"
• "I'm running low on battery" when I'm exhausted, (that happens regularly)
• "Error 404: Organ not found" when explaining my medical history to yet another confused healthcare provider I do love to tell them I don't need sedation for my oscopy exams
• I tell people "I am 6 feet shorter on the inside"
• "I started searching the latest research for an update" when something isn't working right. I am eager to get in on some Peptide research ahead of the crowd

My friends have learned not to be alarmed when I refer to my body as having "augments" and "aftermarket upgrades." It's easier to laugh about being an augment than to dwell on everything I've lost.

The Unexpected Gift

Here's what I didn't expect: finding Murderbot helped me process my own experience in ways that traditional therapy couldn't quite reach. Seeing a character struggle with similar feelings of bodily disconnection, trauma responses, and the weird space between human and other – it normalized experiences I thought were just my brain being dramatic.

Murderbot hates its construct body and feels disconnected from it, but it's also fiercely protective of the humans it cares about. It struggles with trust but forms deep bonds anyway. It feels broken and different but finds ways to be helpful and valuable. Most importantly, it discovers that being part artificial doesn't make it less worthy of care, respect, or love.

That's a lesson I'm still learning.

The Bottom Line

I don't actually want to murder anyone (the cleanup alone would be exhausting), and my entertainment preferences lean more toward true crime podcasts than whatever soap operas are popular in Murderbot's universe. But when it comes to the experience of having your body rebuilt, living with medical trauma, and trying to figure out how to be human when you don't quite feel like one anymore, I leak fluids in polite company – well, SecUnit gets it.

Sometimes the best therapy comes from the most unexpected places. Even if that place happens to be the internal monologue of a sarcastic security construct that just wants to watch TV and protect its humans without having to talk about feelings. I am in trouble for escaping into audio books and pod casts. I have to be conscous of my isolation and silence so my husband does not feel ignored.

Though honestly, Murderbot's approach to avoiding feelings by diving into entertainment feeds is probably healthier than whatever I was doing before I discovered the therapeutic power of calling myself a construct and muttering about how exhausting humans can be.

If you're dealing with medical trauma, chronic illness, or just feeling like your body has betrayed you, I highly recommend The Murderbot Diaries. Sometimes you need a murder-robot to teach you about being human.