one of the lessons i learned from my biggest hero was what it meant to have a hero.
i looked up to him more than anyone else. i thought the world of him. i wanted to know what he thought about everything. i wanted to be like him—hell, i wanted to become him.
and the thing is, that was good for me. that was a good, healthy, normal thing to do. it’s good to idolize someone for a time. it’s good to internalize what U can of their good qualities and virtues.
but at some point, that approach stops working. U hit a wall. U see that your hero is human, also.
with one hero, i had this moment where, after months of reading their works, i finally met them in person, and saw them smoking from a vape pen.
all of that idolization and hero worship dissolved in a moment, because i saw them as human too, with flaws and imperfections, with qualities and patterns that i judged.
and thankfully, at that point, i’d already been through that process with my hero. over the years of idolizing him, i saw past the polished veneer of his appearance, his charismatic presence, his manner of speaking and moving and paying attention. i saw that he had flaws, too. i got a sense of which patterns weren’t working for him, were causing him and others and even me harm.
in a way, though, that was freeing. it wasn’t that he suddenly flipped from good to bad, and that i had to throw out all the wisdom and goodness that i’d learned from him. i could keep the good, and let go of the bad. i could discern what was worth keeping, and toss what wasn’t. i could see him for who he was: an imperfect human being trying his best, trying his damndest.
and suddenly, i had permission to see myself that way, too. i didn’t have to hold myself to an artificial standard of eternal perfection. i didn’t have to try to mold or shape myself into becoming someone i wasn’t. i could just be me, perfect as i am, worthy of unconditional love and acceptance. i could just do what i felt called to, try my best, and learn and grow from all my experiences, including my mistakes.