Member-only story
The Space Between Childhood and Hero
When I was little, I used to tie my favorite blanket around my neck like a cape. My younger brother and I would fly around the house, arms outstretched, ready to save the day from invisible villains. We were fearless. We were fast. We were never defeated. And when our heroic duties were done, we’d collapse on the grass outside our home and name shapes in the clouds. Still wearing our capes, still invincible, still believing we could fix anything.
It’s strange what sticks with you.
Not the details, but the feeling.
That you could be the one who saves the day. That if you tried hard enough, acted fast enough, stayed good enough, you might grow up to be like Superman (minus the laser eyes and x-ray vision). A protector. A fixer. A force for good.
It’s a beautiful idea.
And an exhausting one.
For a long time, I carried that same belief into my adult life, mostly at work. The cape was now metaphorical, but I wore it all the same. First one in, last one out. Take the hard projects. Say yes to the chaos. Absorb everyone’s stress. Be the dependable one. The competent one. The one who didn’t need help.
The hero.
I didn’t think of it that way for a really long time. It just felt like doing my part. Like being a…
