For the last two years, my academic advisor’s main goal seems to be to persuade me to do less each semester. He once told me I had a “superhero syndrome” and I always wondered what he meant by that.
Furthermore, other professors have told me that
I shouldn’t be such a perfectionist, and a few even mentioned that they think
it would be good for me to get a C grade in a class at some point. What’s the deal here? I wondered.
For many months, I looked at these wise and kind people like
they were crazy. I’m not a perfectionist, I would think. You haven’t seen some of my friends! My life and my room look
disorderly and chaotic compared to theirs! You don’t understand!
Yet, recently I have grown to understand that those advisors
and professors weren’t nearly as crazy as I thought. I did struggle with
perfectionistic tendencies. I often asked myself if I had “done my best” and I if
I felt like I had not, I was frustrated and disappointed in myself.
So, I began thinking more about this whole “superhero”
thing. What is a superhero anyway?
According to Merriam-Webster Dictionary, a superhero is “a fictional hero
having extraordinary or superhuman powers; also: an exceptionally skillful or
successful person.”
I may not be able to go faster than a speeding bullet, be
mightier than a locomotive, or to jump tall buildings in a single bound, but I have been given gifts, talents and
abilities that make me extraordinary. And we’re not talking about just me
here, either. Each one of us has been given a place, an identity, and talents
that God wants us to use to serve Him. In
fact, God made us for that purpose: “For we are God’s
handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in
advance for us to do” (Ephesians 2:10). Moreover, there are lists of spiritual
gifts and exhortations to look at the church as one body with many members,
each serving a different purpose. We are integral parts of the world God
created, and it would be somehow depleted if one of us were missing. We have
purpose in this world.
Now, I must confess that pretty much the only superhero
movie I have been exposed to is the newest Spiderman movie, but that’s enough
to get a pretty good idea of one central point: a superhero cannot exist fully without his or her civilian counterpart.
Without Peter Parker there would be no Spiderman, without Clark Kent there
would be no Superman, and without Diana there would be no Wonder Woman.
The implications of this assertion are extensive.
Let’s say that I could think of myself as having
characteristics of both “Civilian Laura” and “Superhero Laura,” and both of
those identities are fully and inseparably attached to this 19-year-old college
student. The Superhero part is the one that is fully awake in her class, with
her homework done and engaging in meaningful intellectual discussion. Maybe the
Superhero is also leading a project, running a program, participating in
ministry, teaching, tutoring, and hanging out with friends. And of course the
Superhero gets good grades, too. (Maybe even a 4.0!) Meanwhile, the Civilian may
go largely unnoticed, but is necessary to sustain the Superhero. After all,
even Superheroes need to sleep, eat, do laundry and homework, clean under the
bed occasionally, work out, call home, talk to the boyfriend, figure out what
she is going to do this summer, research for that paper that is due, and all the
other mundane, non-glitzy, ordinary tasks that must be done. The Civilian may
show up to class just barely on time with her breakfast bar in her hand and
hair still damp from the shower she took 15 minutes ago. Perhaps she is the one
urgently waiting in the Walmart check-out line, or sitting next to you at the
cafeteria table with a spoon in one hand and a textbook in another. The Civilian is less often noticed, but is
an integral part of the whole.
You may be wondering why the Civilian and Superhero are so
integrally tied together. It is because of the economic concept of opportunity
cost. This is the fact that decision-making is necessitated by a
limited amount of time, energy or resources. For example, if you have one hour,
you could perhaps drive to Tulsa, or you could study for an exam, but you
couldn’t do both. If you have $5, you can only spend it once. If you spend that
$5 on a pot of tea to share at Pour Jon’s, you can’t use the same $5 to buy a
card and gift for Mother’s Day. You have
given up that opportunity in lieu of something you considered better.
Now, in our Civilian/Superhero illustration, the
act of being a Superhero consumes and incredible amount of energy. The fact is
that amount exertion is just not sustainable in the long run. Take a look at this chart:
I only have much time, energy and resources
available to me each day. (You can’t get out of the circle.) Thus, in order to
get each thing done, I have to decide how much I am willing to spend on that
activity. (Depicted by the slices of the pie.) If I exert superhuman power
toward one task, that leaves less to go around for the other. If I let the
civilian take care of part of the responsibilities, that leaves more energy to
go around to the other. The trick is finding the balance, and that is an
unending challenge.
In times of extreme pressure, such as finals week, moving
across the country, or any number of situations, sometimes things that the
Civilian normally would take care of get eclipsed by the Superhero’s need for
more resources. Those things get deferred to a later time. That’s fine, as long
as there is a time in the near future when the Civilian can catch up. Yet, when
that demand goes on for weeks and months, with the Superhero trying to take
care of everything and leaving no time for the Civilian to take a breath, you
end up with a weary and burnt-out duo that can’t hardly make a decision or get
through another week. That’s when you
need a friend to call you up and tenderly say, “Take off the cape, Wonder Woman.”
You need to sleep, and eat, and take care of the normal things that concern
you. The Civilian needs a chance to catch up.
This concept is why it is nearly physically impossible for
any one person to give 100% on every assignment. There is simply not enough to
go around. In order to maintain anything resembling a work-life balance,
something has got to give. Some people
choose to give up their sanity, and others choose to give up perfectionism.
Perfectionism can be given up, too. In fact, I don’t know
why we think we’re ever perfect in the first place. I have heard it said, “There
was only one perfect man on the earth, and we crucified him.” It’s true. We can be excellent. We can do our best. We
can get the job done well. We cannot be perfect.
I worry sometimes if people like the Civilian side of me.
(Please don’t take this as a cry for attention, because it’s not. It’s just a
thought that has occurred to me. You probably can relate, too.) I rather like
my Superhero side, because it’s awesome, cool, smart, pulled together, and on
top of its game. That’s the person I want to be. But I have to admit that when
my Civilian side is in her pajamas at 10 a.m. on Saturday, I like that side a
lot too! Over the last weeks and months, I have been learning to accept that
both are integral, and that I can love myself—and others can love me—for who I am
as a whole person, whether I am feeling or acting particularly extraordinarily that
day or not.
In the process, I have found many people who love my
Civilian side; who hold me when I am crying, listen patiently when I am angry,
and support me when I am down or sick or disappointed. If people only like the
Superhero side of me, they don’t know me well enough. And if I find myself looking at someone else and thinking, They look pretty super and awesome and cool,
I need to make sure I am not idolizing their Superhero persona, but getting to
know them as a whole person as well.
If, after reading this, you begin to think that I have it
all figured out, think again. I am sharing these things with you because they
are so hard for me. I struggle with maintaining balance and giving up
perfectionism every day. There are
always choices to be made, and usually the Superhero is begging for more energy
than I can give it. Yes, being a Superhero is fun, but I am learning to also love
my Civilian side and to conserve my energy for the things that really matter. I have learned that “doing my best” means
that I used my resources well, not that I did everything perfectly. So I continue
to strive to do my best, and let God do the rest. I pray the same for you,
dear reader.
