Headaches, Jean Grey, and the Fire Inside
As a kid, I used to watch X-Men, the cartoon version, religiously. Whenever there was a new episode, I was glued to the screen with a notebook in hand, writing down all the sentences I wanted to remember. That show made me feel so seen. A school for special kids who felt ashamed of who they were…where do I sign up? Not to mention the female heroes I could aspire to be.
Out of all the characters, I loved Jean Grey the most. She’s a professor at that special school. She’s smart, empathic, strong, and blessed with telekinesis. But she also has an alter ego: the Phoenix. The Phoenix is part of her, but less controlled by what’s considered “right.” It sometimes drives her to cruelty and to follow her darkest desires.
This past week, I was struck with such painful headaches that no prescribed pill helped. I still have one now, though at least it’s not as excruciating as last week’s. But in this pain, whenever my eyes weren’t burning from it, I rewatched some favorite episodes for comfort, and something clicked. I understood why I was always so hooked on Jean.
I see so much of myself in her. Like Jean, I’ve been taught to suppress the rawest parts of who I am, not by Professor X, but by the quiet force of society and its unspoken rules about what’s acceptable. Over time, walls have been built around my truest self. And just like her buried power erupted into the Dark Phoenix, my own suppressed self forces its way out through fiery pain.
I sense those dark forces rising within me when others’ words or actions wound me. It’s like a fuse lit, and I want to fire away, unleashing destructive power out of frustration, fear, and anger. And yet, I swallow it. I’ve always said that my strongest force is the fact that I cannot bear the discomfort of consciously doing something even remotely wrong to others.
So all those fireballs I throw? They don’t land on anyone else. They slam into the heavy walls I’ve built over the years to ensure I always please others. I know these walls aren’t healthy, but they’re there, and I’m still learning how to lower them. And the result? All that chaos rebounds, crashing back into me in the form of a brutal headache. Pills work when the problem is physical. But when the mind itself is the battlefield, no wonder nothing helps.
Maybe that’s just me. But I can’t help wondering how many of us are carrying our own Phoenix inside. Too fiery to ignore, too dangerous to let loose.
