I am a superhero
“I’m a superhero,” that sentence slipped out of my mouth with so much conviction that after feeling a sense of pride I’ve never felt before, I laughed. I know what you’re thinking, “Did she really just say she’s a superhero?” Yes, I did. And now I’m not calling myself a superhero because I’m a mom. Yes, I’m taking care of three children, balancing their schedules, working full time, and running my own business all on my own. No, I am a superhero because of my superpower.
You see, I have a gift. I always have, and I’ve always been aware of my gift. I didn’t understand where it came from or why it was given to me. In a recent counseling session, as I navigated through a painful memory (we will get to that in another post), I blurted the words, “I’m a superhero.” My counselor mentioned my bravery and courage in going through what I had to endure. I said, “Yes, there’s that. But, I have a superpower.”
My whole life, all I wanted was to be normal. To see the world the same as everyone else. I lost my vision in my right eye at a young age. The torment from my siblings and friends crushed me in more ways than I could ever find the words to explain. This pain was deeply tucked inside, leading me to believe “I was broken,” I didn’t matter,” and “I wasn’t enough.” Yet, in a recent EMDR session, I gained a new perspective that I hadn’t seen before.
I’m rare, unique, gifted. Now, I’m not saying I’m better than anyone else, but I know that I’m not broken. My lack of vision never made me weak; it definitely made me mentally stronger. But it also gave me the ability to see people, like really see people. As my counselor and I processed the realizations that occurred in the session, I said, “I’ve always been good with people. I can make a connection with anyone. People often tell me how I make them feel welcome. And now I know why. I’ve always aspired to make others feel seen because I felt invisible. I want others to feel they mattered even when I didn’t think I did.” This new perspective left me feeling a sense of joy. I realized why all the students I’ve worked with in higher education, secondary schools, and now, especially in my current position, feel that my office is a safe space. It is because of me. And not only because I respect them and treat them with kindness, but because I see them.
I see who they are on the inside. I know who they want to be and who they could be. I see the potential and the desire that lives within them. I see the insecurities and doubts that hold them back. I see them. And I show them their value. My gift isn’t only with the students I work with but with all the people I come in contact with. I’ve made meaningful connections with the clerks at the grocery store, built incredible friendships with complete strangers, and brought people together. I’ve heard from past relationships (friends and lovers) that I made them feel they mattered. That’s all I have ever wanted is for everyone to know how much they matter. I give my all to every relationship in my life because I value each and every one of them.
It was always something I just did. I thought it was the cardinal rule; how we should live. But as I sit here in my 40s, recovering from scars caused by other’s rudeness, I’m well aware of how rare my gift really is. It crushes me to admit that kindness should not be rare. Seeing people for who they are and meeting them where they are at should not be considered a superpower. But it is. I accept that I had to experience loss to understand what we all want in this world: to be seen, to be loved, and to know we matter.
I’m still processing this realization and the trauma that led to it. I’m trying to navigate 30 years of never seeing how much my lack of vision impacted me. I’m still grasping the terms of living with a disability and the impact it had on my life. But I will tell you this: no matter what, I will always be kind, always see people, always value others, and always let those around me know that they are enough, that they matter.
