#heroesmatter

On May 11th, I had the great pleasure of having a date with Rob Lowe. Actually, I was one of a couple of hundred people who also had a date with him as he spoke at the Strathmore Theater.

I read his book Stories I Only Tell My Friends several years ago, and was even able to talk my tough-guy, “men don’t read about other men” husband into reading it too. After all, we both grew up with Rob, from the Outsiders and St. Elmo’s Fire to Class and Youngblood. Though, truthfully, Masquerade is my favorite of his movies.

And, little known fact, he is the voice of Simba on Kennedy’s favorite show, The Lion Guard on Disney Jr.

I knew from reading his book that Rob (because we are on a first-name basis, having had a date and all...) is very open about his past struggles with addiction. As someone who also deals with addiction, I love that fact that not only does he NOT skirt around the issue, but it is a part of the fabric of his story and one he is happy, willing, and arguably even grateful to share.

A bit more than halfway through the talk, Rob told a few stories about his friendship with Chris Farley, who suffered from drug and alcohol addiction, and I would argue food addiction as well.

As he shared stories about Chris, he also talked about heroes and how important it was to have the “right” heroes. How his heroes were Robert Redford and Paul Newman, while Chris’ hero was (not surprisingly) John Belushi.

I felt an immediate pang and deep, deep understanding as I realized the impact my hero has had on my life.

Marilyn Monroe.

A woman who was idolized and objectified and appeared to be valued primarily for her sex appeal.

A woman who battled with being taken seriously and also meeting expectations as a sex idol.

A woman who every man wanted and every woman wanted to be, yet who was deeply conflicted with who she was, who people thought she was, and who she desperately wanted to be.

A woman who was constantly looking for love outside of herself because her self-love was so limited.

A woman who could easily flit between two personas, dependent upon whom she was with.

A woman who wanted so much to be a mother, arguably to “fix” her disjointed upbringing.

A woman who battled addiction, self-esteem, and self-worth issues.

Wow. Me, me, me, me, me, me, and me... well, maybe not the wanted bit, but definitely the deeply conflicted part.

It made me wonder, do we choose heroes we want to emulate, or do we choose heroes that feel familiar?

I think it’s a bit of both.

Given my love of Marilyn, it’s little surprise that I have been conflicted for much of my life with thinking being desired is the same thing as being loved. That you simply take “it” because that’s how you are wanted and included. That being alone is the worst thing that can happen to you.

That food (or drugs or alcohol or sex) can numb the pain so you can go on living.

Yes, it’s little surprise that Marilyn has been my hero. And it’s even less of a surprise that as I work my recovery, I see the two faces Marilyn had to present and find myself drawn to the quiet Marilyn.

The book reading, romping on the beach, introspective Marilyn.

The Marilyn with the amazing insights like “Fear is stupid. So are regrets.” And “Hollywood is a place where they’ll pay you $1,000 for a kiss and 50 cents for your soul.”

Yes, my heart still resides with Marilyn, but so does my sympathy and understanding. She will always be a hero to me, but one that comes with a caution sign.