My Origin Story

Every superhero has an origin story. A collection of moments that gives him his strength to save his world, but leaves him tormented along the journey. Our superhero is no different. 

 

By all aspects, the boy had a normal childhood. He grew up in the suburbs, with a mom, dad, two brothers, and two sisters. And life was fun. He played. Went to school. Got good grades. Had normal middle school drama, a catholic high school education, and then went off to college to dominate the world.

 

But all was not what it seemed to be.

 

Mom was an Italian immigrant, who came to America with three kids and no husband. She found a job in a factory to make ends meet. Dad was twenty years her senior, with a wife and three kids of his own. He was a “big shot” (her words) at the factory, and they had an affair that resulted in daughter and the boy. They eventually got married and moved into the house where they raised their blended family. 

 

Mom took care of the kids - cooked, cleaned, drove the kids to school. But english was still her second language, and she never learned to read or write. Dad seemed to enjoy his second family. He was the provider; the life of the party that everyone enjoyed being with. But doting after a couple of toddlers and teenagers just wasn't where he was in life.

 

That left the kids on their own to develop emotionally. And they struggled as the world closed in on them. Each of her three children endured trauma in their lives and weren’t able to guide their younger siblings. So the boy tried to make sense of a complicated world. 

 

What does the boy do? He survives. He learns to rely on himself to process the feelings he doesn’t understand. Everything is turned inward, and he becomes the center of his own universe. And in this world, communication is simple - observe, note, process, analyze, and share only the feelings that are needed to move the conversation forward. He learned to share the positive feelings: happiness, excitement, gratitude, kindness. Letting others in during those times always made him feel good. But sharing negative emotions like sadness, fear, guilt, and anger was never allowed. During those times, he isolated himself, processed the feeling, and went back into the world when the feeling had faded. 

 

Communication is the key for any healthy relationship, but it’s hard to be a good communicator as an adult when no one shows you how to communicate as a child. Express feelings? With who? The mom who tipped the scales as a drama queen? She had an amazing ability to make herself the center of every issue. There was hope with his dad, but they didn't talk about dreams, fears, anxiety, feelings, or emotions. Their conversations centered on sports, trips to the store, books, and magazines. And when the dad died as the boy turned 17, any chance to learn how to communicate as an adult died with him. 

 

What about love? Did the boy feel loved as a child? Absolutely. Expressions of love were all around him. The hugs from his parents and siblings. Sitting on the couch, watching TV next to him mom. That was love to him - physical embraces that led to an emotional acceptance. And he found that when he did things for his family, they showered him with thanks and praise, and the affirmation filled his heart. That become his definition of love.

 

Throughout his development, he encountered challenges - emotions that he didn’t know how to process: rejection, jealousy, hurt, hopelessness, betrayal. And over time he developed different parts of himself to handle those emotions. A part that allowed him to deny access to the boy when he felt rejected or hurt. A part to hold on to anger when the boy felt betrayed. A part to blame others when he felt jealousy. And in time, the parts formed his superhero, someone who could quickly find the right part when the boy was overwhelmed. This superhero was tasked with one mission in life: protect the boy at all costs.

 

And this framework proved effective. The superhero successfully navigated the boy throughout much of his life. Friends and co-workers got to hang out with the happy side of the boy, who was generous as he sought their admiration. They enjoyed his friendship, and he developed a part that embraced loyalty. As he got older, he developed a narcissistic part that was devoted to leadership. Soon came a sociopathic part to lie and manipulate in order to get what he needed. A part of him had a quick wit that could prove a point with sarcasm and levity. Another part of could easily hurt with comments laced with hate. The superhero lived a a life dedicated to the boy’s needs, and it led to success beyond what they could have imagined.

 

Unfortunately, this framework didn’t work well in loving relationships. The superhero let the boy out at first and allowed those close to him to see the vulnerable side. They became the focus of his attention and affection. They saw everything they needed to feel love - in turn, they provided him with his idea of love, as husband, father, uncle, and brother. And when he showered them with gifts, he received enough affirmation to fill his heart.

 

But inevitably, something would change. Those nasty emotions, both real and imagined, would re-emerge. And although the superhero was adept at putting the right part in place to protect the boy, the family needed more. After all, they were adults who knew how to communicate and love as adults. And his inability to communicate led to breakdowns in relationships. Eventually, they wouldn't recognize the boy anymore and learned how cope with who he became.

 

He soon encountered a new emotion, grief, and the superhero didn’t have a part in his arsenal to protect the boy. For the first time, the boy was in crisis mode, unable to process his emotions and communicate his feelings. Tears fell, parts collapsed, and the boy had no choice but to abandon the superhero and somehow navigate life on his own. 

 

But somewhere along the way he found out that he wasn't alone. Friends and family caught him as he was falling. Students and co-workers carried him each day. He felt a strange, new energy in his daily interactions - love. And with that energy, he found that he could share his tears with others. He found that he could share his pain too, and they would understand and comfort him. He found a therapist that could make sense of his narrative, and help him learn to express love and communicate as an adult. Where there was once despair, there was now hope.

 

But how do you let go of the superhero who has guided you all these years? The Marvel Universe gave Captain America a time machine to return to a lost love. It let Iron Man die a hero by sacrificing himself to save the world. But those really aren’t viable options for the boy. He needed a dark knight to give him a blueprint to follow. And the boy remembered his first boyhood hero, Batman. DC allowed Batman to die as a hero, saving the city that he loved. But it also gave Bruce Wayne a chance to start a new life, with love at his side.

 

So please let this story serve as the public death of my superhero. This boy is learning to become an adult, armed with an overwhelming desire to share the love in his heart, and desperate to communicate his feelings to the world.