{"id":32413,"date":"2020-08-22T21:02:56","date_gmt":"2020-08-23T02:02:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/?p=32413"},"modified":"2020-08-22T21:11:42","modified_gmt":"2020-08-23T02:11:42","slug":"all-i-wanted-was-to-be-your-hero-but-i-still-havent-found-my-way","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/?p=32413","title":{"rendered":"All I wanted was to be your hero, but I still haven\u2019t found my way"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

When I was a little boy, I went to sleep almost every night making up stories in my head. I was always the hero.<\/p>\n

By the time I was old enough to start liking girls and wanting their attention \u2014 about fifth grade, it seems \u2014 my stories were mostly about being heroic for a girl. I had a crush on a classmate named Wendy, so she was the metaphorical princess and I was the knight on a white horse.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t understand it at the time, but I was setting a pattern for much of my life.<\/p>\n

I wanted to feel special. I craved the attention and admiration of one woman. Over the years, the identity of that woman changed. of course. When I did something I thought might impress her, I wanted the crowds to love me, but only because that meant she would see.<\/p>\n

I wanted her to think I was special. I wanted her to love me for that.<\/p>\n

You don’t have to be a psychologist to understand why I’ve felt this way. I come from a very dysfunctional family. My mother left us when I was young. I never felt good enough for my father.<\/p>\n

I grew up wanting attention in my family. I tried to earn my father’s attention. I made sure to perform well enough at school that teachers would adore me. I was performing for everyone I was around. I needed to be a star at anything I did.<\/p>\n

I didn’t understand this at the time, but I did only the things at which I excelled. That allowed me to be a star. It wasn’t that I loved the things I pursued. They were just the things that came easily enough to me to buy cheap praise. It wouldn’t have mattered to me whether it was math or writing or football.<\/p>\n

I did whatever allowed me to be a star — and I was always looking toward one face in the crowd. I was always hoping that she would think I was special. I wanted her to love me.<\/p>\n

I didn’t understand this process. I didn’t understand what I was doing. None of this was conscious. I can only see it looking back. But now that it’s in the past — and I can see the patterns — nothing could be more clear.<\/p>\n

I still want to be special. I still want to be someone’s hero. I still want to be loved.<\/p>\n

I understand all that now, so I see how it all still affects me. Most of all, I see the ways in which it affects what I do. I see how it affects me to be performing for a world in which she’s not watching and where there’s no one whose heart I’m seeking to win.<\/p>\n

I’m struggling because I’m on the stage of my life alone. It simply doesn’t feel as though there’s any reason to perform when she’s not there to see \u2014 when performing wouldn’t win me the approval and love I’m still craving.<\/p>\n

There’s a line an an obscure old song \u2014 \u201cSuckerpunch\u201d by Five Iron Frenzy \u2014 in which a man recounts what he felt like in junior high school. In that line, he sings, \u201cAll I want and all I need is someone who believes in me.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Middle school was many years ago for me, but that line still rings true.<\/p>\n

What do I want to do for the rest of my life? I’d like to spend it being special to someone who I love. Someone who loves me. I’d like to be her hero. I’d like her to think I’m amazing. I’d like her to believe in me.<\/p>\n

I could do a lot of things, but I find myself drifting without motivation. Nobody loves anything I do well enough for me to become a star at it right now, at least not that I can tell. That leaves me feeling like a depressed performer standing on the biggest stage of his life, heartbroken there’s no one for whom to perform.<\/p>\n

Some people say we should want to achieve for ourselves. They say we should be driven by inner motivations. I can’t argue with those people. Maybe they’re even right. I just know life doesn’t work that way for me.<\/p>\n

In my heart, I’m still the little boy who’s the hero of his stories. I’m still trying to impress the girl. I still want her to think I’m special. I still want her to love me.<\/p>\n

But I’m alone on a stage in a lonely auditorium instead. There’s no applause. There’s no enthusiasm. I feel more depressed and desperately alone each day — because I don’t know where she is.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

When I was a little boy, I went to sleep almost every night making up stories in my head. I was always the hero. By the time I was old enough to start liking girls and wanting their attention \u2014 about fifth grade, it seems \u2014 my stories were mostly about being heroic for a Keep Reading<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-32413","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","category-uncategorized","entry"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1x9iR-8qN","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32413","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=32413"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32413\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":32425,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32413\/revisions\/32425"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=32413"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=32413"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=32413"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}