I used to want to be placed onto a pedestal as a hero.
That might not be too surprising. After all, our culture is filled with tales of grandiose heroism that invite people — especially young men — to insert themselves into the stories as the hero. So what’s the big deal that I used to have a burning desire to be a hero?
It’s hard to explain and the full story isn’t pleasant. In fact, there are parts of the story I’m not yet ready to tell publicly. The time will come when I’ll talk about the ways that my life has been affected by the influence of narcissistic personality disorder and borderline personality disorder. Expect a book when the time is right. Until then, here’s what I’m ready to say.
After I moved recently, I started unpacking boxes and going through papers that hadn’t been touched in decades — some since my teen-age years. The things I found were fascinating and they forced me to see early evidence of emotional problems that I eventually had to deal with in counseling.
One of the most fascinating troves of notes and papers consisted of things I wrote over a three-year period starting when I was 13 years old. They dealt with my first serious crush on a girl.

‘What’s the worth of one warm smile? Go and ask the dead man’
We’re all masters of denial when facing painful truths in our lives
We hate ourselves for needing other people’s approval so much
Little girl’s face and colorful sky have power to pierce my heart
As I quietly watch my world burn, I’m painfully aware this isn’t fine
Grief keeps reopening the door my loving mother walked out of