I Think I’m Superman, And It’s Making Me Physically Ill

Apparently, I’m supposed to be omnipotent *facepalm*

There’s a saying that goes, “if you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything.” The evil Count in The Princess Bride quoted it, actually.

And the further I go through life, the more I realize how incredibly true it is.

I’ve gotten my life back after a serious illness. I have a business, and plans, and goals, and I’m going to write a book this year, dammit. I have things to do. But I’m on the couch, re-invalid-ed (is that a word? No, it’s not, but let’s just run with it) because of a cold that went to my lungs.

A cold, ya’ll. Like, sneeze-cough-feel-bad-for-a-week cold. The common effing cold.

But this cold packed up its bags and moved to my breathing apparatus, causing a respectably serious infection, and I spent 6 hours in the emergency room three days ago trying to breathe.

Apparently, the common cold can hulk out.

Rude.

But because I have a hulked-out cold, right now I’m sitting on my couch still trying to breathe. Instead of, I don’t know, getting client work done, working on my book, doing the dishes, going for a walk, doing all the things that make me feel productive and accomplish-y.

I’m (finally) perfectly mentally capable of doing all the things I want to do.

But because I don’t have my health right now, my plans have come to a screeching halt.

(Did you hear that horrible sound? That made the dogs howl and definitely perforated your eardrums? That was my plans.)

On The Energetics of Illness

So, I’m sitting here bitching through my fingertips (thanks for putting up with it), because honestly I’m a little bit nervous about this next part. Buuuut hell, here goes.

I’m taking a break from bitching to do something that is actually productive. And that is: to ask myself why this happened.

Why did this cold go to my lungs? What am I doing that caused my lungs to go sideways? Where in my energy was “can’t-breathe” so intense that it showed up physically?

These questions sound weird, I know. And don’t worry, I’m fully on board with modern medicine. I’m on prescription inhalers and cough suppressants and painkillers (which I haven’t taken yet, because prescription painkillers make me leery) and I’m fully vaccinated for everything and I’m entirely sane.

I just also think there’s an energetic component to everything. I’m never going to try to cure cancer with crystals, but I’m also going to say, “hey, what’s going on with me in this circumstance?”

Worst case scenario, the question does precisely jack shit about my health, but I get some good self-reflection time. I see no downsides here.

But, having asked the question, I sat with myself for a sec. Why did I get this? Where is “can’t breathe” coming from?

And in a moment, I had my answer:

The pressure I put on myself is suffocating, and I need to stop.

We’re Only Responsible For Ourselves

Okay, lovebugs. Here’s where I introduce a concept that I, personally, have not yet internalized: you are only responsible for yourself.

*promptly throws up in mouth at this concept*

Every (every!) single guru, Guide, personal development coach, counselor, and general resource that I’ve ever read, seen, or listened to has one thing in common. They all say that we can only be responsible for ourselves.

Now, I’m pretty sure that this means that we’re responsible for our own actions, but apparently, it also means that we’re only responsible for our own happiness and (this is the part that makes me hurl) if someone else somewhere is unhappy or suffering, that does not mean that we’re not allowed to be happy until we fix it.

*sirens blare, lights whirl, the SWAT team bursts onto the scene and opens fire*

WHAT????

The hell do you mean I’m allowed to be happy if someone in Uganda is suffering horribly? (I’m in America, Uganda is the first other country I thought of.) What the fuck do you mean I’m allowed to rest while there is injustice in this world?! UNACCEPTABLE, I AM PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR THE TOTAL WELL-BEING ON THIS PLANET AND GODDAMN IT, I WILL FIX SHIT.

…

…

…

Aaaand there we are.

I’m Not Superman, And I HATE It

*Points to freakout above* That’s it, right there. That’s the answer to my question.

That’s why my body said, “nope! We’re going to literally not breathe so you can get metaphorically smacked into recognizing that you’re suffocating yourself with expectations that are objectively insane.”

Cause like…really?

Self, we do not have the ability to literally ensure perfect well-being for all of humanity. No one has the ability to do that. The President of the United Flipping States does not have the power to wave his hand and fix global suffering and injustice and war and hunger and poverty and all the eight thousand ills affecting the human race.

Maybe I’m putting massive, unrealistic, suffocating expectations on myself because I secretly think I’m some kind of superhero. So, Self, Gandalf in Lord of the Rings couldn’t single-handedly stop Sauron. Are we more powerful than Gandalf? No. Superman in the comics could not fix world hunger. Are we literally more powerful than Superman?

No, Self. We are not. We are one person.

And while one person can do incredible things (looking at you, Malala Yousafzai and Greta Thunberg) one person cannot fix the world.

And yes, Self, that sucks epic amounts of monkey. We genuinely hate that we’re not omnipotent. I don’t know why we thought that was ever an option? But we hate the fact that we’re not like the worst of poisons.

So, Me, Myself, and I just have to come to terms with the fact that we’re not the actual Almighty. My rational brain is shaking its head. My wizard brain (the one that was raised on stories of magic and superpowers and such) is spitting mad.

But at least we know why our lungs are messed up.

And hopefully, with this realization, we can learn to give ourselves a moment.

Just a moment.

To give ourselves grace. To turn down the expectations.

And learn to breathe.