After several months of trying to be like a superhero, it took dressing my dog up as Superman and a few other timely events, to make me aware of my behavior.
Guess what I remembered?
I am not a superhero. I do not have super powers. I cannot leap tall buildings in a single bound. I do not have an invisible jet, nor do I have a super twin.
I am not responsible for the well-being, happiness, health or anything else for anyone else. I am responsible for my stuff. Superheroes get to tend to the welfare of others.
In my work with my veterans and my students, the best I can do is to help others to help themselves. I can encourage others to find their path to their greatest potential. Why would I expect to be able to do more than that in my personal affairs?
Fortunately, I remembered that I really can’t. Not that I don’t revisit this often in my life, but it is always good to find my way back from it without doing too much damage to my health and well-being.
When I think I have superpowers, I can be vulnerable. If I buy into feeling responsible for someone else’s well-being, apparently I will take that on as my own. It has been a very long time since anyone has been selling me their issues in my personal space.
When I have superpowers, I generally overdo it physically. When I overdo it physically, I am pretty vulnerable to everything. I am vulnerable to germs for sure, so why not also be vulnerable much more to include taking on what is not mine to take on?
Duke and I did a test run on Monday of last week for his Superman costume, which is the day I realized just how far I had taken my own pretend superpowers. As issues continued to be for sale through the week, I decided not to dress myself or Duke as a superhero by midweek.
Even though Duke is my superhero, we decided to hang up the cape.