There’s two kinds.
- The seemingly-successful superhero syndrome.
- The agonizingly painful I-need- to-save –the –world –but –can’t- quite-pull-it-off super hero syndrome.
Frankly, I don’t know which is worse.
The seeming-successful syndrome is just that: seemingly successful. Sure, you fly high (pun intended) for a while. It feels great, even powerful.
Contrary to the delusion that often overtakes us when we are busy, busy, busy, we do not actually have super powers. We are human. Eventually, we
- miss our cue.
- Drop the ball.
- Mess up the schedule.
- Pop the balloon.
The higher we fly, the harder we hit the ground..
The second syndrome is the one from which I suffer on a daily basis. I am haunted with the need-to-save-the world-but-can’t-quite-pull-it-off syndrome. I want to be the hero who
- swoops in to dazzle the hurting with my undivided attention,
- takes courses to enhance my natural gifts while juggling work and home life,
- stays up all night making stunning decorations for the church Christmas dinner,
- Endears myself to all the other members of the church by my warm, affable personality.
Sound like fun?
- I don’t have an automatic “dazzle”, “chit-chat” or “hey, how ya doing” mode. It’s all manual.
- When I stay up late, I turn into a pumpkin. Literally. Swell up. Get thick headed. Skin turns a funny color.
- I can’t juggle. Rubber Balls. Milk bottles. Fire sticks. How could I ever manage to toss around bits and pieces of my fragile existence like they are rubber balls?
Just writing about it, makes me want pick coffee beans in the jungles of Guatemala. ( I get some really weird job offers, ok?)
Good news –
The concept of being a superhero is nothing more than a syndrome.
Even if we could be superheroes, gaining altitude and wearing a fancy cape is not all it’s cracked up to be.
· Getting out of bed.
· Walking in the rain.
· A quick hug.
· A warm hello.
It’s the ordinary moments that hold us together.