Wonder Woman

I grew up feeling invincible. I had it all together. I always got above average grades. I was super involved in extra-curricular activities in high-school (dance, orchestra, marching band, musical theater); some turned into my majors in college (where I got even better grades). I got my Young Women's medallion in church. I was outgoing, and I was under the impression that most people liked me (I may be wrong about that, but just let me believe it.)

Things started changing on my mission. Things weren't going perfectly- and my mission, of all places, was supposed to be perfect.

I started seeing a therapist. He gave me homework to do. I didn't do it. Deep down, I still wanted to believe that I was fine, and it was everyone else that were causing problems.

I had a companion who had more patience with me than anyone else had (not including parents.) I had so much love and admiration for her that when a disagreement came up, I couldn't keep blaming her. For the first time, I turned my eye around to look at myself. Maybe I'm the problem? Maybe my perspective was off? This made more sense. But I didn't know what to do about it.

I talked with my mission president. I cried as I confessed that I just can't do everything; that I maybe was not good enough; that I'm no Winder Woman. He smiled and told me that I was Wonder Woman, and that I was doing exactly what I was sent to do.

How could he believe that so strongly? 

Life continued. I tried to get back into my pre-mission mentality after I was done, so I could accomplish anything and everything. But I couldn't. I was different. How much I tried to ignore it- it was still there. How was I supposed to accept these changes when I didn't like them? My memory was skewed. I felt alone all the time, even while trying to make friends. The only real friend I had was my husband to be. He was the only one who made me feel like I was worth something- and he fought hard for me. All I knew was I HAD to keep him- he was, and continues to be, my anchor in an unpredictable storm.

Starting birth control pills threw me even more out of whack. I felt dark and angry all the time. Over time, I evened out some- I switched to the Nuva ring, which turned out to be the best decision for me... But I still had issues.

Our marriage was far from perfect. We had a lot of speed bumps and a lot of mountain to climb. Jake frequently wondered about my emotional state. He would point out odd behaviors... The problem was that, as one with bipolar, everything I was saying and doing seemed perfectly normal and it just felt like he was being too picky or trying to control me. It took multiple efforts and the right circumstances to get me to the doctor the first time.

It took cancer. Jake was diagnosed with Hodgekins Lymphoma in March 2009. Watching him literally fight for his life scared me. I realized how much I needed him. I watched his hair fall out. I watched how sick he got after his chemo treatments. He shook sometimes. He would spend some days in their totality slouched over the toilet. He lost so much weight (he really didn't have that much to lose).

And I had to consider the possibility of losing him. I thought about how I sometimes treated him, and I was ashamed. I hadn't been a very good person- let alone a good wife, or friend.

When he was told the cancer was in remission and he no longer needed treatment, I crashed. I spent two weeks straight doing nothing but sleep on the couch. Maybe the high energy (looking back, I know it was the highest level of mania I had ever had) during Jake's treatments completely drained and humbled me... After my serious crash, I realized my behavior wasn't normal, and I finally consented going to get checked out.

My family doctor listened very carefully as I described my concerns. He was pretty sure then that he knew what was going on, but he had me go back home and keep a mood journal for a while, so he could be sure.

Upon returning, he was convinced I had Bipolar 2 with rapid cycling. I was willing to accept depression, but bipolar? That means I'm crazy. That means I don't know how to care for myself or anyone else. Yes- even those of us with mental illness fall prey to stigma; especially in the beginning.

I hated myself. I started retrospectively noticing those awful things I said and did (because bipolar makes you feel like you're always right). I became timid and angry. I still get in that mindset, especially when Jake tries to give me feedback on my behavior (understand, though, we have mutually agreed this is necessary to helping me remain stable). I frequently feel that I'm less than because I have this disorder that makes me human.

What about that high-school version of me? I miss her. She was so happy and accepted. She did everything she wanted, and got constant validation. She could conquer the world.

During all this, I thought frequently about how wrong my mission president was in saying I WAS Wonder Woman. If he could only see me now- in all my flawed glory- he would never say I was her.

She was perfect.

Wait a minute- no, she's not. Give me a little nerd credibility- I married a comic book writer. 😜

Wonder Woman loses her abilities- including her super strength- when her wrists are bound together.

We all know the Superman has his Kryptonite. Green Kryptonite takes away his superpowers; and there is Kryptonite of other colors that mess with him, too.

Green Lantern’s flaw or weakness is the color yellow, which eventually was made into the manifestation of fear on the light spectrum (and is the opposite of him, with Green light being powered by will).

Martian Manhunter’s is fire.

The Flash will die if he runs too fast.

Daredevil’s is too much noise pollution. 

These are just examples!!! Even superheroes have issues. The Super heroic part comes when they fight for the good, in spite of their difficulties.

Is it possible that my mission president knew that all along? That superheroes have flaws just like the rest of us- and if we keep fighting through all the opposition we face in spite of our difficulties, we are just as powerful as them.

It took me a long time to I had to learn that my trials were okay- they don't say I'm a bad person... Just that I'm a fighter. And maybe I don't have the slick black hair and tiara, but maybe I am a pretty wonderful woman.