It seems that I’ve positioned myself in my world, and in the world of those around me, as some sort of super hero. I’ve done this since I was a young girl. I help solve other people’s problems. I am everyone’s shoulder to cry on. I love unconditionally. I give unconditionally. I care. I’m always happy. Always smiling. Always positive. I’m never truly ill. Never truly hurt. Always well dressed. Well groomed. Well spoken. I’m the girl who’s always pleasant, charming, charismatic. People view me as smart, talented, unique. Men are attracted to me. Women are a bit envious. Without drugs or alcohol, I still seem to be the life of the party. I make others laugh, I love surprising those I love with gifts and grand gestures. I always try to make other people feel good about themselves and proud of what they do.
But I can’t help but ask myself: What about me? I don’t do anything in life expecting something in return, but this rhetorical question has been surfacing more and more in recent months. Who’s shoulder can I cry on? Who loves me unconditionally? Who has surprise grand gestures with me? Is there anyone around me who is constantly trying to make me feel good about myself? Who tells me how proud they are of me? Who always has a smile on their face when they see me? Who would drop everything if I needed them? The answer is quite simple (and sad): No one.
I can’t always be the super hero. It’s too much work. I’m really just a girl. And in any case, even heroes have the right to bleed…
