That Hard, Bizarre Thing #25c: “5 Reasons Why #3 – We Wanted to be Heroes”

(NOTE: Written about an experience in the past, does NOT reflect the present.)

Reason #3: We Wanted to be Heroes

Girlfriend and I both share, or shared, a deep desire to save people. To save them from their diets, from their terrible relationships, from their destructiveness, from their family, etc. I theorize this comes from a long-standing inability to save ourselves, so we projected savior mentalities out into the world. Girlfriend’s hero complex manifested in its own ways, mine came mostly in the form of codependency, trying to save this man and that man from their alcoholic-ness, from their father or mother hunger, from their traumatic childhood, etc. (As far as we know, this desire is now gone. We do not think we have the ability to save anyone, nor do we try.)

So when Girl shared sad secrets that made it seem like she really needed to be saved, ohhhhhhhhh we knew it was just the job for us. We strapped on our capes, laced our ninja boots, and took it upon ourselves to “save” her from everything we perceived was awry. To save her from unhappiness, from controlling men, from limiting beliefs, from unkind family, from all of the many people incapable of recognizing the gem she was, people who did not deserve her in their lives.

Ridiculous and grandiose notions. We don’t even know if any of the things we thought we were saving her from were real. 

But it was a HUGE part of it. So when we felt like she was being not-nice, when her stories seemed to not add up, when she’d say one thing and do the opposite, when her behavior increasingly suggested she wanted Girlfriend to herself, instead of creating boundaries we extended grace. We were so certain what she needed was love, we’d write off any peculiar behavior as stemming from her trauma, her hurts, “This poor thing, she just does not know better. She just needs more caring. She just needs to feel safe and know that we are here for her, no matter what.” We treated her like a feral cat who would stop scratching our arms up if we just loved it properly.

Despite being mostly cast aside, I made it a personal mission to give Girl the mothers love I believed she always deserved but did not receive. I forgave her endlessly. I’d apologize when I did nothing wrong. I’d be kind and compassionate and tell her she was amazing, tell her she was extraordinary, tell her to keep being her, that she was perfect. Always. I thought I could words-of-affirmation her into healing, love her into being a different person. I thought if I showed her that even if she stabbed me in the back, or even straight in the front, I would still love her, that I could break down her walls and help set her free.  I was… codependent as fuck And probably some other things. And so arrogant in it. And so lost in my own savior fantasy, my own concept of myself as some holy angel meant to heal her. So needy for the value that would come from being a knight in shining armor. It is so strange to think about now.