10/30/2024
This week's Shark Bites Newsletter
The Day I Killed Superman (and saved myself)
For most of my life, I suffered from a terrible disease called "Yes."
âYes, I can help you with that,â âYes, Iâll attend that event of yours,â âYes, I can do that,â yes, yes, yes. If someone asked, the answer was always yes.
I used to think I was just being a helpful guy, taking pride in being there for everyone, all the time. Thatâs what weâre supposed to do, right? Help others when we can? In my mind, I was Superman. Superman can save the world. Heâs fearless, always available, and not constrained by the confines of 24 hours.
Superman is almost invincible. And I wanted to be invincible too. But even Superman has a weaknessâKryptonite.
One day a few years ago, while working on my second re-write of Wintality, I felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety. I had a million projects that needed my attention, hundreds of messages and emails from fans I hadnât replied to, and four events to attend in the coming daysâfriendâs parties, business launches, charity events. On top of that, I was behind schedule on the second manuscript for my book.
And I just lost it. I broke down.
I was exhausted. My brain wasnât working. My body was sore for no reason. I sat on the couch all day. I didnât answer my phone, didnât check emails or messages. I didnât respond to anyone. I just sat there hurting over the sad realization that I wasnât Superman anymore. I couldnât carry the load.
It was depressing. First, I thought, âAm I losing my edge? Am I just getting older?â A flood of questions and doubts rushed through my mind. I stared at my reflection in a blank TV screen.
âWhat happened, Superman?â
After what seemed like hours, the reflection seemed to answer my question⌠You killed me.
Nah, that couldnât be true. Could it?
But as I thought about it, I realized it was true. Superman can only be killed by Kryptonite. And unknowingly, I had been injecting myself with Kryptonite. The Kryptonite that killed the Superman version of Baylor was my constant âyes.â
Saying âYESâ to everything meant I was saying âNOâ to myself. In trying to help everyone else with their dreams, I was quietly telling myself that my own dreams didnât matter, or that Iâd get to them "someday."
The very thing I was telling others to doâfollow your heart, do what you want to do, focus on yourselfâI wasnât applying to my own life. In that moment, I realized what a hypocrite Iâd been. Not intentionally; my heart was in the right place, but my actions werenât. And our dreams donât care about excuses or intentions, only actions and results.
I walked over to the mirror and stared at myself. I apologized to Superman. I told myself I never meant to be my own downfall, never meant to hit myself with that dreaded Kryptonite.
But it was too late. Superman was dead, and I had killed him.
I made a promise to myself that day: to say "YES" to me. That promise meant Iâd have to say "No" to things and people that didnât align with my purpose. It meant Iâd have to battle my heart and my pride, which desperately wanted to be there for everyone else. It meant I couldnât and wouldnât be everywhere all the time.
But I realized that in fulfilling that promise to myself, Iâd ultimately be able to help far more people than I ever had before.
And with that realization, I smiled. Deep downâŚ
Supermanâs heart started beating again.