Chapter 14: The Hero's Journey pt. 2: The Trial, Endgame, and Pyrrhic Victory
The early 1990's was an interesting time to be introduced to comic books and superhero stories. In the context of the post-Reaganism, glorification of "yuppie" values (an obsessive devotion to career and materialistic lifestyle; think Gordon Gekko in Wall Street "greed is good" speech), and the AIDS and crack epidemics of the 1980's (thanks a f*cking lot Reagan, depending on how much you believe they were government conspiracies to specifically target Black, Brown, and LGBTQ communities), the early 1990's can be characterized by "grunge" and the popularization of gangsta rap, music genres and cultural subcultures characterized by a darker, edgier expression riddled with angst. The comics of that era with characters reflecting these darker themes of the supernatural and paranormal like The Sandman, Spawn, and Hellboy.
Flashback: I was introduced to comic books in the summer of 1993. My parents owned a business in the garment manufacturing industry in the fashion district of Downtown Los Angeles. During that summer they dropped me off at family friend's house in Glendale every morning to be babysat. The high school teenage sister, Grace, tried to teach me how to swim in their backyard pool and occasionally drive us to McDonalds, the movies, and later to the local comic book store. Her younger brother, Alex, who was in middle school, had a Sega Genesis console and a growing library of comic books and trading cards. I was a sponge absorbing all of these new characters and mythology; though my 11-year old brain had a difficult time grasping the concept that DC and Marvel comics were two different companies and that Batman and Spider-Man never bumped into one another while swinging from rooftops (until they did in a 1995 crossover, *insert graphic of my mind blowing*).
My introduction to Batman were the reruns of the campy Adam West series, the gothic Tim Burton films, and the noir inspired animated series. It was quite a departure to read the Batman: Knightfall storyline, where Batman is exhausted beyond his physical limits before the character of Bane physically breaks his back. As a response, Bruce Wayne selects Azrael, a trained assassin and sociopath, to be his successor. While he does successfully defeat Bane, his willingness to severely injure and kill criminals causes even more long term damage to the image of Batman as a hero. I had zero interest in reading Superman, who I was the most milquetoast bland of superheroes. But Alex handed me his issues of The Death of Superman and promised that I'd want to read this. Death? I couldn't fathom the idea that Superman could die. I poured through the comics as Superman defeats the monster Doomsday but is mortally wounded in the process. Superman's death was so big that news of it transcended niche comic fandom and was covered by mainstream media outlets, almost like a real person died. It's from those grittier 1990's comic storylines that I was introduced to the concept of a pyrrhic victory, a victory that comes with such a great cost that feels like a defeat.
The next phase of the hero's journey after the call to adventure and initial cross into the unknown, are the road of trials or tests. Once I accepted the "Heart Ring" as my not-so-useful-but-I-swear-its-essential gift, I needed to figure out how to put this gift to use, who would help me in my journey, and who would hinder my journey. It's the gift and the curse of being an empath: like Rogue from the X-Men, I don't really have any control over what I absorb. I either shut it off completely and live without direction or purpose, or I turn it on and try my best to absorb the good and filter out the bad as quickly as I can. As discussed in previous chapters (look at me attempting to keep continuity while I'm making this up as I go), I had to be like the palm tree and plant myself where I would be watered. That meant trying to become a teacher but failing to find full-time placement in a classroom because I lacked the foresight to pick the more in demand subjects of Math and Science. It meant bending but not breaking while I transitioned into K.A.F.E. where I remained tangentially in education by conducting professional development workshops on multi-culturalism. While that successfully blended my personal interests with my professional job, I failed to create any kind of financial stability in a non-profit that existed on a nickel-and-dime budget and couldn't afford to pay me a living wage.
In my first attempt to establish a career after K.A.F.E. I was the victim of "job catfishing", a hacker posted a fake job listing on Idealist.org from a legitimate company. I went through an online interview and was hired to work remotely as an executive assistant (in hindsight, mistake number 1 was that it wasn't done via Zoom or Skype, and I never spoke to anyone person-to-person. I was way too naive about cyber fraud). They sent me a full acceptance letter and issued me a check to cover the office supplies from one of their vendors. Right after I deposited the check via ATM (mistake number 2, because had I physically gone inside the bank a teller would have caught the counterfeited check immediately), I ordered thousands of dollars worth of supplies from a vendor I had never heard of (mistake number 3, it wasn't from a Staples, Office Depot, or Amazon). The result was that on the very same morning my mother checked into Emergency to receive IVs to gain a tiny bit of strength before she began chemotherapy treatments for lymphoma (her lymph nodes were so enlarged that she couldn't eat and barely swallow any water; in the months prior where she was initially misdiagnosed, she lost over 40 pounds), I received an email from the bank that my account was overdrawn by nearly $2000 and several of my bill payments had bounced. I had to face the real possibility that my mother could die and that our family would lose our home because of my failures. I gathered all of my email correspondence and filed a police report for cyber fraud, but there was nothing they nor the bank could do. A few days later the company posted on their Facebook that they learned of the fake job posting. None of those things were going to get my money back or pay for my now delinquent bills. My dad came to my rescue and gave me $7000 in cash to deposit into the bank, which gave me 6 months to regroup and find a new career before I would be in the same dire financial situation again.
Maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised that my dad was my biggest ally in my time of need. After all, that's what parents are for, right? But our relationship was tenuous at best. We butted heads throughout my life due to cultural and generational conflicts. I was supposed to be the dutiful son who excelled in school, secured a respectable career that my parents could brag about, got married and continue the family line, don't talk back, and provide immediate tech support whenever the WiFi went out (do I look like Geek Squad to you?). According to my expected duties on the Asian grading curve, I'm 1/5 so far. But he was also the one who threw me under the bus and didn't come to my defense when I was 8 and my mom told me "for the rest of the night you are not my son". When I was 21 and expressed my fears of moving and having to start over again, did he respond with compassion and empathy? Nope. He told me that he's been able to keep in touch with childhood friends, so what's wrong with me, which almost triggered me to overdose on vicodin and hopefully take my own life. I'm sure there was embarrassment whenever he'd bring me documents and ask me to translate. It was role reversal and now he was the dependent one. But have you ever tried to translate letters from the DMV or law offices? They barely make sense in English! Whenever I would pause and think how I could translate jargon into "Konglish" (granted I hated doing it and probably had the worst poker face about it), he would take my silence for insolence.
Who turned out to be my biggest adversary on my hero's journey? It wasn't a criminal mastermind like Lex Luthor or the Joker, nor was it some intergalactic being like Thanos. It wasn't specifically Donald Trump or Mitch McConnell, but if you want to generally identify the White Male Heteronormative Patriarchy as the banes of my existence, I won't necessarily correct you. My biggest adversary wasn't anyone external; it's the internal battle I have with my own depression and anxiety. Which brings me to the approach to the inmost cave, the calm before the storm. With every failure, actual and perceived, there is a moment when my anxiety is triggered and I can feel the chemical changes in my body. My head begins throbbing and my chest tightens like it's trying to escape from my chest. It becomes harder and harder for it to take a deep breath and my "peter tingle" is off-kilter, as if I'm in imminent danger. Holy Sh*t! It's coming from inside of the house!!!
And then the ordeal, the full plunge into depression. It's the central stage of my hero's journey. From the overstimulated peaks of anxiety and then everything abruptly shuts off: my body goes numb and the brain enters the "upside down". Nothing has any meaning anymore and my entire existence up to that point was for naught. It's only through experiencing depression and facing my greatest fears of unworthiness, rejection, and abandonment can I be reborn and achieve my goal. If I give into my depression and my suicidal impulses, then I'll never claim healing, love, and acceptance to myself and others. I'll never have my happy ending where I can say my life and story isn't an accident. I would have hoped one battle with depression and suicide would have been enough. When I had my come-to-Jesus moment at the age of 21, I was given a second chance to be known, be seen, and to feel accepted. After unknowingly triggering my first battle, my dad pulled me out of my second suicidal battle when he bailed me out and gifted me another chance to find my path. And with my most recent battle with depression and suicide after a particularly devastating hearbreak, in a far less dramatic, but equally crowd pleasing, moment than Captain America picking up Mjolnir, I began therapy. So far I've been able to best suicide, but I've needed help on each occasion. While I'm afraid that I don't have the strength to fight it alone, maybe that's the point. That's why were are suicide hotlines and all those PSA's about seeking help. It's helped when I wasn't sure it was worth fighting any more.
"[Black woman], without asking how, just say that we survived our forced march and travail through the Valley of Slavery, Suffering, and Death - there, that Valley there beneath us hidden by that drifting mist. Ah, what sights and sounds and pain lie beneath that mist! And we had thought that our hard climb out of that cruel valley led to some cool, green and peaceful, sunlit place - but it's all jungle here, a wild and savage wilderness that's overrun with ruins.
But put on your crown, my [Queen], and we will build a New City on these ruins." - Eldridge Cleaver, Soul on Ice
Nerd Tangent: Some of the most successful and critically acclaimed superhero movies have pyrrhic victories. [Spoiler warnings!] In The Dark Knight, Batman was able to thwart the Joker but it cost him his love, his ally, and his reputation when he took the blame to preserve the image of Harvey Dent. I know Batman technically prevailed but did he really win? He'll never get Harvey or Rachel back, and most importantly, no matter how much crime he fights he'll never get his parents back. In Avengers: Endgame our heroes were able to stop Thanos but it cost them Vision, Natasha Romanoff, and Tony Stark in the process. Was that victory worth it or was the cost too great? Don't ask Wanda Maximoff who's still grieving the loss of her love somewhere in a multi-verse. And speaking on a meta level, the MCU may never find an actor/actress who could fill the nanotech shoes of Robert Downey Jr. Do you think in the deep recesses of Kevin Feige's mind he wishes he could have that back and keep the RDJ money train running?
So concludes my nerd tangent and back to the hero's journey. Yes I have won some pyrrhic victories over depression and suicide. Some of my substantial victories include a financially stable career where I didn't have to sell out any of my values and passions. Damn, did I really need to lose $7000 from catfishing in the process? Yes, I've been able to wield my Heart Ring and practice empathy and healing with the clients I have in the domestic violence shelter. Most of the time that fulfillment outweighs the constant threat and exposure to contracting COVID-19 and the stress from having 2 retired parents at home to consider. I have a small group of friends who make me feel accepted and seen to make up for my continued and often humorous misadventures of dating over 30. I adopted a puppy during the pandemic from a co-worker and I have hobbies like music, reading, and this blog you're hopefully still reading. But I also know that I may never experience the type of love that (I imagine) will finally silence the depression in my mind. Or maybe I'm putting too much stock on love and depression is something I'll battle regardless.
Is it all worth it? Most days I believe so but there are days I'm not sure. But each day is another chance to try, to fail, to live to win the unwinnable.
Even if I ultimately fail, it won't be the end of the world. In the world of superheroes the story is never finished, there's always the next storyline to write. Hell they killed Superman and brought him back in a year.
Portrait Photography: https://www.zacharyleeportrait.com
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