Well, I Should Have Seen This Coming
Those on my f-list who’ve known me for a few years remember when my husband deployed to Korea in 2009. During that year I lived with my family in Chicago, and it was hardly what I’d call the best year of my life. I completely uprooted my then toddler son from the only home he remembered right after saying goodbye to his father, and watched as the truth that we weren’t just there for a vacation and Daddy wasn’t just gone for a little while slowly sank into his young mind, watched almost helplessly as he grew more confused and scared, with me as the only familiar thing in his life. I learned what years of regular phone conversations with my mother never told me: that she was burnt out at work, drowning under her mortgage debt, watching her elderly husband slowly die, addicted to sleeping pills, and had succumbed to alcoholism to the point that we had reason to fear for her life. And my son and mother were just the biggest issues standing alongside not seeing my husband for a year.
During that time, I found peace of mind in Superman comics, of all things. My husband has always been a fan, and picking up the comics made me feel closer to him. Fast forward a few months, and I had a stack of trade paperbacks I kept reading over and over, and an ever-growing list of books I intended to buy. It wasn’t just a pleasant distraction, or merely a shopping addiction. I genuinely fell in love with Superman, in a way that being aware of the character all my life hadn’t accomplished. He’s all about his Neverending Battle, showing people through his example how to be heroes in their own right. He’s constantly knocked on his ass by Kryptonite and such, but he always gets back up - hell, even getting beaten to death didn’t stop him for long! Reading his stories, I actually felt the inspiration the character was meant to spark, and remembered the reason he fights so hard for people is because he truly believes we are stronger, smarter, and braver than we give ourselves credit for. I began to feel that way, like I could handle the challenges laid out before me.
This might sound crazy, but I believe Superman played a part in me finding the courage to band with my siblings and arrange an intervention for our mother. She says it was because of that talk that she let the bank take the house and moved to Florida after burying her husband, decisions that she swears to this day saved her life. As for my son, I learned some valuable lessons about what he needs, and what to never do again; if nothing else, I believe I grew into a better, wiser mom.
Fast forward again to 2017: my son and I won’t share a house with my husband again until sometime after Thanksgiving. We’re staying in our old house and my son is staying at the same school for the stability and structure he needs, and I have a job to keep me from wallowing myself. But my son is what’s called a ‘tween’ now, with all the hormones, body changes, mood swings, and boundary testing that entails, all things that would be handled very well by a disciplinarian/confidant-type male role model, like a father, but instead I'm handling it on my own. I now have a 10 year-old who’s nearly as tall as I am, already has body hair, struggles with controlling his sudden bursts of anger and urges to cry, stinks like a grown man because he keeps “forgetting” his deodorant, shirks as many responsibilities as he can before I’m ready to scream at him, gives me sass like it’s second nature, and tries get away with at least one lie a day. I cannot recall a single day recently that we’ve gone without an argument. I can’t describe what it’s like to watch someone go from the perfect baby who once owned all my love and adoration to the temperamental man-child who in one minute makes me want to hug him close forever, and in the next minute makes me tear at my hair and dream of shipping him to his grandmothers. I also can't describe how much it hurts and frustrates me that the one person I really need for this is the one who's not here. Add to that the growing job stresses, being left with the sole responsibility of finding, purchasing, and moving into our next home, and worrying about what my family’s life will become after my husband returns and retires, and things are a little tense with me lately.
So ... this looks like a job for Superman.
Here’s the Superman books I’ve bought since my husband left:
Here are the Superman analog books I’ve purchased:
And I have three more on order, so far. Add to that the three new songs mentioning Superman I’ve downloaded into my Kindle, the Superman T-shirts I’m thinking about buying even though they’re twenty bucks each, the time I seriously considered paying over $25 for a Superman binder to carry around at work, and the fact that we still have about ten months to go, and we’re looking at what could become a rather pricey coping method.
But it's working. I still draw comfort and strength from him, I still feel a little lighter after reading one of his stories, and it still makes me smile to think how my personal Superman is my husband, and he spends every day fighting for me. I don't care how silly it looks, that I'm finding a similar kind of solace in a fictional character that other people might say they find when they pray, that I cherish these comic books like they're the highest form of literature. This works for me, and apparently it always will.
So, thank you again, Man of Steel, for getting me through a rough time. As always, you're saving the day.
During that time, I found peace of mind in Superman comics, of all things. My husband has always been a fan, and picking up the comics made me feel closer to him. Fast forward a few months, and I had a stack of trade paperbacks I kept reading over and over, and an ever-growing list of books I intended to buy. It wasn’t just a pleasant distraction, or merely a shopping addiction. I genuinely fell in love with Superman, in a way that being aware of the character all my life hadn’t accomplished. He’s all about his Neverending Battle, showing people through his example how to be heroes in their own right. He’s constantly knocked on his ass by Kryptonite and such, but he always gets back up - hell, even getting beaten to death didn’t stop him for long! Reading his stories, I actually felt the inspiration the character was meant to spark, and remembered the reason he fights so hard for people is because he truly believes we are stronger, smarter, and braver than we give ourselves credit for. I began to feel that way, like I could handle the challenges laid out before me.
This might sound crazy, but I believe Superman played a part in me finding the courage to band with my siblings and arrange an intervention for our mother. She says it was because of that talk that she let the bank take the house and moved to Florida after burying her husband, decisions that she swears to this day saved her life. As for my son, I learned some valuable lessons about what he needs, and what to never do again; if nothing else, I believe I grew into a better, wiser mom.
Fast forward again to 2017: my son and I won’t share a house with my husband again until sometime after Thanksgiving. We’re staying in our old house and my son is staying at the same school for the stability and structure he needs, and I have a job to keep me from wallowing myself. But my son is what’s called a ‘tween’ now, with all the hormones, body changes, mood swings, and boundary testing that entails, all things that would be handled very well by a disciplinarian/confidant-type male role model, like a father, but instead I'm handling it on my own. I now have a 10 year-old who’s nearly as tall as I am, already has body hair, struggles with controlling his sudden bursts of anger and urges to cry, stinks like a grown man because he keeps “forgetting” his deodorant, shirks as many responsibilities as he can before I’m ready to scream at him, gives me sass like it’s second nature, and tries get away with at least one lie a day. I cannot recall a single day recently that we’ve gone without an argument. I can’t describe what it’s like to watch someone go from the perfect baby who once owned all my love and adoration to the temperamental man-child who in one minute makes me want to hug him close forever, and in the next minute makes me tear at my hair and dream of shipping him to his grandmothers. I also can't describe how much it hurts and frustrates me that the one person I really need for this is the one who's not here. Add to that the growing job stresses, being left with the sole responsibility of finding, purchasing, and moving into our next home, and worrying about what my family’s life will become after my husband returns and retires, and things are a little tense with me lately.
So ... this looks like a job for Superman.
Here’s the Superman books I’ve bought since my husband left:
Here are the Superman analog books I’ve purchased:
And I have three more on order, so far. Add to that the three new songs mentioning Superman I’ve downloaded into my Kindle, the Superman T-shirts I’m thinking about buying even though they’re twenty bucks each, the time I seriously considered paying over $25 for a Superman binder to carry around at work, and the fact that we still have about ten months to go, and we’re looking at what could become a rather pricey coping method.
But it's working. I still draw comfort and strength from him, I still feel a little lighter after reading one of his stories, and it still makes me smile to think how my personal Superman is my husband, and he spends every day fighting for me. I don't care how silly it looks, that I'm finding a similar kind of solace in a fictional character that other people might say they find when they pray, that I cherish these comic books like they're the highest form of literature. This works for me, and apparently it always will.
So, thank you again, Man of Steel, for getting me through a rough time. As always, you're saving the day.
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