When I was growing up, we didn’t have a lot of money. It wasn’t that we lived in an exceptionally nice area or anything, but the things I was forced to wear to school were clearly outside the range of acceptable fashion no matter where I would have lived—especially in the early 80s.
Having to wear my dad’s old, vintage 70s vinyl jacket to school in the fifth grade could have traumatized me forever. If you were alive in the 70s, you know the jacket I’m talking about too. It was light tan, almost yellow. It had the snap up buttons with two breast pockets and two larger pockets at the bottom of the jacket. When used, it would flake and crack; usually starting around the folds of the elbows and armpits, and work its way around to the back of the jacket. This thing was hideous, and I’m convinced it is why my dad was so eager to give it to me. It also didn’t help that my dad was a heavy smoker in those days as well. So I had to get on a school bus with my peers wearing this horrible, yellow jacket that also smelled like I’d been on an all night bender.
Standing at the bus stop, all I could think was, “How am I gonna live THIS one down?” The bus doors opened, and I slowly made my way to the nearest open seat, praying no one would see me or notice this monstrosity I was wearing. And of course, there were no seats available at the front of the bus! As I made my way down the aisle, kids stopped talking and just stared at me with their mouths gaping, as if they were trying to comprehend what they were seeing. Some girls held their nose as I walked by and one asked me if I smoked. My worst nightmare was coming to life. They weren’t going to give me a pass on this. I had to come up with something and quick.
I stopped in the middle of the aisle, and I looked around and started talking before I even knew what I was going to say. “I know you don’t recognize me with this on,” I began, “but unfortunately my cape is at the cleaners, and this was the only thing I had in the closet. But don’t you worry, Superman will be back before you know it.” Quickly I grabbed a seat and tried to act like it was no big deal.
I was shocked how they responded. A few kids laughed. Some of the girls giggled and whispered to each other. One of the sixth-graders from the back of the bus threw a wadded up piece of paper and told me to sit down and be quite. It worked! They may have thought I was a dork for saying I was Superman but the story was no longer about the jacket I was wearing. I had taken the upper hand in a situation that looked impossible. It was at that moment I realized I had allowed the wrong people to have control of my story.
Think about YOUR life. Have you allowed someone to tell your story for you? People will focus on your ugly yellow jacket, and they’ll point and laugh saying, you’re not smart enough or pretty enough or whatever. They want to point out you will never amount to anything, or you’ll never be good enough. Maybe you have some friends, in the name of “friendship,” pull you aside and tell you how ugly your yellow jacket is. Your story becomes about the ugly yellow jacket.
I would maybe choose a different scenario other than secretly being Superman if I were you, but don’t give anyone the opportunity to control your story. Go back to school, travel the world, take acting or singing lessons, or start the business that everyone has told you will never work.
In our current society, we’ve given the power of our story over to teachers, preachers, high school counselors, parents, boyfriends/girlfriends, spouses, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc.. I’m of the opinion this life we have, is to be full and vibrant. Full of joy, happiness, and fulfillment. If you are honest with yourself, you will never be happy working a nine-to-five job hoping “someday” you’ll be able to go after the thing about which you are most passionate!
It doesn’t mean we won’t hit trials or there won’t be horrible things we’ll have to endure because every good story has drama and conflict. When we are in control of our story, we can deal with those hardships so much better because life no longer feels like it keeps running us over at every corner. It gives us another opportunity to tell the part of our story of how we overcame all odds and became the superhero of our story.
Don’t waste another moment. Tell your story the way you want it to be told!
Steven L Struble 