In absence of clearly defined goals, we become strangely loyal to performing daily acts of trivia.
Growing up, my favorite superhero was Superman. The outsider.. the man who when pretending to be “normal” looked and acted like the typical nerd. Big round glasses, clumsy and shy. But in “reality” he was a powerful force for truth, justice and “the american way”. He was the hero nobody suspected lying inside his nerdy persona.
Growing up, my favorite game has been “Hero’s Quest” by sierra. Printed brightly on the box in bold letters was the phrase “Do you want to be a hero?” Being the young boy that i was the time, my answer was “Yes! of course i do..”
Growing up, i always searched for a hero. Someone who could come and sweep me from the sad state of mind i was always in. Someone who could bring back my innocense, bring back the carefree days i felt i lost way to early. A hero to save me from chores, from sitting alone in a big house, from being bullied and looked down upon by others. I searched for that hero, and when i couldnt find one; i tried to be that hero for others.
Today i look back on my attempts at being a hero, and i observe the beginings of my Hero Complex.
Whats a hero complex? Well the easiest answer can be found in the pages of Harry Potter. Poor Harry suffers from the same disfunction, when the desire to do good and help people in extraordinary ways, extends to almost an addiction.. a need to be helful, the need to be the one who saves the day. Most if not all people who are titled with the “Nice Guy” or ‘nice Girl’ stigma suffer the effects of the Hero Complex..
We back ourselves in a corner. we begin to help with the best intentions in mind, we do what we can.. then we do more.. and more and more. Somewhere along the line the selfless act becomes more routine, and sooner or later we cant help but do what we are asked… But at what risks? Sometimes we just lose ourselves.. we give up more pieces of who we are in order to keep the other person happy. We become slaves to the system we have set up ourselves, locked in a cage we refuse to open. We dont want to cause any pain, especially when our goal is to free them from it. And at the same time, we dont want to lose the attetion; our “nice person” stigma usually keeps us away from being the center of attetion for too long, and when we get its intoxicating scent, we dont wish to lose it.
And sooner or later, everything backfires. Our help becomes more of a burden on both parties than any help. They rely on us more than they want to, and instead of helping them move forward, we are doing everything for them. We become co-dependant on eachtoher; the crutch and the cripple.. neither one moving very far or quickly, leaning on eachother when they really have no need to.
I remember those hero complexes. I sense all the energy loss, the self toture and the things i had to let go. I remember the co-dependancy… like a drug i couldnt be without. I think i’m better now, years of suffering have brought me from the place of believing that i could be the end all of all existance. I can still help, but i need to let people experience some aspects of life on their own. Advice, guidance, support, a listening ear and love, those are what i can offer, and i must be cautious of the levels in which i will meddle in other peoples lives.
Its definately not been an easy road. I see all the things i’ve given up and wish i had not. I see the deception i had to place on myself to get through each day. And i see how much better life is when i’m living my own.
Change, reflection.. Age.
Arnold said, “Your getting older and moving on… good job.”
