Being asked what superpower I wanted used to really stress me out as a child. “Only one?” I’d bemoan. How was a girl supposed to choose between flight, reading minds, controlling the elements, and all the hundreds and hundreds of other superpowers out there? I’d try to think of words that could mean any number of powers. But sometimes the best I could think of was not a word, but something like “a vampire’s powers” or “Harry Potter’s powers” — but what did that mean? Did it mean the kinds of powers like glowing, speed, and eternal life, like the vampires in Twilight have? Did it mean Edward’s ability to hear other people’s thoughts? And if I were to get Harry Potter’s power, would that mean a single power that would give me access to any power?
As I write this, I realize I was both a bit too realistic and a touch too greedy in answering these hypothetical questions.
But, as in other cases, age has shown me that there are more important things in life than knowing whether the barista intentionally misspelled your name or whether they really didn’t catch it. So if you were to ask me now, at the ripe old age of 30, I’d tell you that if I could choose a superpower, I would choose the ability to not be hurt.
The world doles out pain generously, and unless you’re hiding, you’ve probably been handed some. And if you have, you know just how inconvenient pain is.
After 30 years on earth you’ve probably had your fair share of painful experiences. From rejection, to heartbreak, to insults, you name it. The world doles out pain generously, and unless you’re hiding, you’ve probably been handed some. And if you have, you know just how inconvenient pain is.
I’m not looking at the annoyingness of pain from a productivity standpoint, like a mindless, corporate zombie. “Pain is getting in the way of your actionable items, Louise, so I’m going to need you to put it aside and be a team player.”
Ick. No.
Pain is, well, a pain, because it impedes all sorts of things you don’t want impeded. For instance, let’s say you have a friend that is so marvelous in so many ways. They’ve been attentive and caring and fun for so long. You’ve truly enjoyed being close. And then, they do something that hurts you. Now what? Well, it’s the first time, so you ignore it. You go back to the fun and games and closeness. Until they hurt you again. Maybe even in the same way. Now it’s harder to ignore. You bring it up, and then move on. After all, on the scale of things their goodness is so much heavier than the meanness.
Until they do it again. And now it’s too much to ignore, right? If it’s a pattern, especially a known one, doesn’t that mean something deeper?
This is when, if I could, I would activate my supernatural ability, and simply decide the thing they did was not hurtful. See how great that would be? I’m not saying I would make it go away or make myself forget it. Rather, I’d wave my wand (or whatever activated my power) and that thing they did that I found harmful would just not rub me the wrong way. They could keep doing it without having to change anything, and instead of feeling that pesky pain when it occurred again, I would simply be unbothered.
Of course, then I wouldn’t be able to appreciate it when the other person changes their behavior to avoid stepping on my toes.
Then I wouldn’t have to worry about ending something that is so great in so many ways. I wouldn’t worry about being too sensitive. I wouldn’t worry that I’m a bad friend for being hurt by someone I know has no intention of hurting me. I wouldn’t worry and think that maybe there’s something in my makeup that’s messed up and that’s why I’m offended by things other people don’t even notice. I wouldn’t have to have awkward conversations that are hard to move past. I wouldn’t have to worry, in the back of my mind, that it could happen again at any second.
I wouldn’t have to examine whether this thing that I think is great is maybe not so great anymore.
Of course, then I wouldn’t be able to differentiate this friendship from others where nothing like this happens, or appreciate it when the other person changes their behavior to avoid stepping on my toes. Hurt is a feeling, but it’s also much more. Hurt tells me I’m feeling bad, so I can tell that I was actually feeling good before.
Pain, in a sense then, is beneficial. How frustrating. Just when I thought I finally had an answer to that silly ice-breaker question (admittedly one a bit too dark for social events). But it seems I’ll have to go back to the drawing board after all and come up with a way of stating my wish that encompasses three or more powers.
And while I wait to find a solution, I’ll lick the wounds caused by the hurt I cannot wish away.
