BEING A HERO HAS ITS PRICE

Do you know Amelia Earhart? She was an aviation pioneer, the first female pilot crossing the Atlantic Ocean in 1932.

Or do you know Marie Curie, a physicist and chemist who conducted pioneering research on radioactivity?

Both were heroes of their time, pioneers, doing groundbreaking work in their field, sticking out their head for something they believed in.

As a kid I was inspired by these kind of hero’s and heroines, the ones in my immediate life, like my mother, but also those I mentioned above. When I grew older, I wanted to be like them, courageous, fearless, true and dedicated to a purpose. I wanted to do nothing less with my life. To that time I didn’t understand yet, that being a hero comes with a price.

The first time I got confronted with reality was when my mother I believed to be invincible got diagnosed with cancer. I was 16, and the doctors gave her a maximum of 6 months to live. She died a bit more than 2,5 years later, when I was 19, just one month before graduating school. Its was the toughest time of my life. But I took my heroes as an example, how to deal with challenges in life, with loss. I admired how they not only would be able to move on, but making something positive, something good out of the crappy cards life dealt them.

So I pushed through, didn’t allow myself to grief and to really process the loss strongly believing thats what I need to do. I thought being strong means to move forward no matter what. And I did. But a part of me was lost along the way and internally I started to doubt that narrative.

When I joined the police forces not long after, I consequentially ran into all kind of troubles. Being a person with very high standards around justice and helping others, working in the police was often a huge disappointment. I was stepping on toes of superiors, getting some bloody noses because I did what I believed in to be the right thing. I fought, and cried and fought again. People told me I shouldn’t take things too much to my heart, should grow a thicker skin, over and over again. I heard I was too sensitive, and ultimately I believed I was not good enough, I was not made out of the material heroes are made of.

I quite police, started to look for a new purpose, new goals, something that would fit me better. For years I was constantly oscillating between my somewhat naive and childish believes of making in impact in the world and becoming the hero I dreamed of when I was young and the deep need for security, hiding and rest.

Not being able to live up to my standards drove me into depression, several burn outs because I ignored boundaries when I should have rested or said no to things, and times of intense anxiety, even panic attacks. Being on the ground, it was when I started to realise that this hiding, resting, the need for security and feel, my sensitivity, which I thought was a flaw on my path to make an impact, was, what made me actually human.

Being strong has a price, being a hero has a price. We will pay that, if we keep ignoring the parts of ourselves that are flawed, full of gaps and sensitivities. We will carry the consequences of denying the weaknesses that make us human.

Heroes will need to admit defeat at some point. Amelia Earhart disappeared in 1937 at the try to round the globe. Marie Curie died of radiation. Even they paid a price, but not without leaving a huge impact in the world.

In the end we decide who we wanna be. And perhaps being human entirely with the courage to face our weaknesses is already heroic enough.

(Photo credit Hakim Oki)