Lana Lang

We all have a Lana Lang—someone who feels like the missing piece. The person we convince ourselves is good for us, even when everything inside us whispers otherwise. We chase the idea of them. And in the end, they don’t complete us—they reveal us.

Sometimes we seek out people who fill gaps in our self-esteem, not because they’re right for us—but because they reflect who we wish we were. These people become mirrors. They show us who we are, often in ways we don’t want to see.

Lessons don’t arrive wrapped in light. They crash in like thunderstorms—loud, painful, and impossible to ignore. You hear the crackling of your inner monologue. I never listen. I always think I am smarter. I am here to tell you, lessons are repeated in life until you learn them. Divine timing.

I have learned through my Lana Lang a lot about my own resentment, judgement, self hate and so much more. This grudge I hold towards people. Sometimes the way I treat people is ill. Even when they have done nothing wrong to me. A sort of defiance disorder that I have been carrying with me since birth.

That resentment is my Kryptonite. It weakens me, even though I pretend it gives me strength. I’ve worn it like armor. But the truth is, it’s been a weight. One I’m finally trying to put down. However, I worry that if I let it go that my life will somehow inherently be worse. I might lose my edge. This drive that I have to better myself everyday. Almost like this 96 octane that I pump into my body that keeps me going. I often get compliments on my work ethic and I have only recently begun to find out where it comes from. I fear that if bring it to the light I will lose this drive. Ultimately, that is coming from a point of weakness and emotionally immaturity.

The Lana of my life has shown me I often judge people for things that I have no business judging for. You know the sad reality of it all. I bet a lot of my self hate comes from that judgement. I was talking to my friend the other week, and I told him that the only way I have found grace for my self hate is through giving grace to others. Not being judged on their worst days, because I know I certainly wouldn't. The fact is that I do that. For what? To make myself feel better? Shitty behavior, how small minded do I have to be in order to put someone down to raise myself up. I have a lot learn. A phrase I have not only been saying to myself, but to other people in my life.

She has shown me a lot about my own darkness. How I often withhold things from myself in an attempt to receive praise. I hold back the things that mean the most to people because I think it makes me more valuable. In reality, the only person I am hurting is myself. Not letting that care out into the world, because I do not know how to accept it. It is a false idol, this chip that I stand on.

I know I help others believe in themselves. Friends have told me. But I’ve also pushed them too hard—expecting them to match my work ethic, without realizing mine comes from a place of fear. A kind of spiral. And not everyone wants that, or needs it. That’s a hard truth I’m still learning to sit with. It is unfair, especially when I push that on someone who doesn't have the same inclination as me. I am only now just realizing that some people do not want it as bad. It comes from a place of nervousness.

I was watching Rick and Morty—a show that surprisingly delivers real wisdom. In one episode, Morty thinks he’s about to die and finally confesses his feelings to Jessica. She tells him, “I wish you would've told me sooner,” and then says something that hit me hard: “Being nervous is sort of selfish sometimes.”

Not because nervousness is wrong, but because it keeps us from showing up for others. I’ve suppressed so many feelings, hoping people would just ‘get it.’ But really, I was just hiding behind insecurity—still craving approval I was too afraid to ask for. I spent so many of my years hiding behind that mask. That I never truly let anyone in. Still don't.

An exercise that I am trying to adopt is when I have feelings that I do not wish to confront. I try to stop and understand why and combat it head on. I fail regularly at this. Still working on identifying those moments when I lose myself. In all of this though I think we are looking for someone that compliments us. Someone who can understand us when we do not understand ourselves. All of this—resentment, judgment, fear—it comes from the same place: the feeling that I’m not enough. And maybe that’s why I’m still searching. Not for someone to fix me, but for someone who sees me. Still looking for Lois.