Learning to live alongside kryptonite.

I used to walk around waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the next cataclysmic event to turn my world upside down.

Every so often I bump into an old belief–that somewhere out there is my kryptonite.

 I know we all die, but this is different. It is a belief centered around the notion that I will encounter a hardship so great that I will be knocked to my knees and unable to pull myself back up. 

This belief used to be in the driver’s seat of my life. I walked around waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the next cataclysmic event to turn my world upside down. 

My childhood is speckled with memories of bankruptcies, one occasion of a car nearly being repossessed, and parents operating on a scarcity mindset. I remember threatening to padlock myself to a pole in the basement like a human bicycle, a silly childhood notion I believed would prevent the house from being taken away. 

Older sister in action.

The uncertainty extended beyond finances. My mom struggled with chronic pain, anxiety, and depression. Her mood was often a moving target. I was always guessing the version I would encounter. My dad was a pull yourself up the boot straps kind of guy, who only showed emotion after a few drinks. He was also madly in love with my mom, often at loss of how to best help her. My dad’s love and desperation often boiled over as anger. 

Even though they are both gone, it is tempting to add a whole paragraph to counter the one above. It is a reflex to rush to their defense, because, truly, they were good people. They loved me fiercely. They did the absolute best they could.  However, my parents were human and like many, my childhood left me with a pile of things to untangle.

The uncertainty and black cloud mentality that consumed my younger years, meant the majority of my life was clouded by hypervigilance and anxiety.

My dream muscles never fully developed. It never felt safe enough to dream. I could not imagine one year into the future, so I certainly did not imagine myself getting older. I honestly thought the inability to think about my future self meant I was destined to die young.

Even during major events like my college graduation, my mind was always working overtime. It would be a while before I learned how to quiet those thoughts.

Thankfully with therapy, courage and lots of hard work, I realized the roots of this mindset were not some wicked curse, but some childhood speedbumps. 

I made the choice to be the first in my family to challenge the victim and scarcity narrative. I put myself in the driver’s seat, not my fear of kryptonite. 

Unlike some other unhelpful beliefs, this one has a really deep hold.

Although I am driving the car now, at times it is still an extremely rowdy and vocal backseat driver, especially after recent events. My nuclear family was 5 members strong in 2016, then:

• In 2017, my brother shot himself.

• In 2021, my dad died unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

• In 2022, my mom died of ALS. 

So now, Kryptonite my occasional backseat driver sounds like this: 

• Who are you to think you’re the exception to your family’s tendency toward dramatic and premature death?

• Who are you to think that you can live a full life?

• Who are you to think you can keep bouncing back? 

• Who are you to think that you’ve already seen your rock bottom? 

• Who are you to think that something good can happen without something bad immediately following? 

On days like yesterday, when those thoughts are strong, I have a choice. Kryptonite can take the wheel or I can keep driving. 

I know that I am okay because I keep my hands on the wheel. 

At this point, it feels unrealistic to expect Kryptonite to exit the car entirely, so instead I say,  “I hear you. We’ve been through some real shit. I appreciate your feedback, but could you turn your volume down a little bit.”

Then magically, Kryptonite eventually falls asleep in the backseat of the car. 

Wholeheartedly,

Maggie

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My journal, Lessons from Nature is now out. You can find it here.

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