Chapter Seven of Journey Back to Health is short, but it carries weight. It’s called Superhero Complex, and it addresses something I know I struggle with — wearing the cape.

For some of us, there’s a strong internal drive to do everything. To show up for everyone. To say yes. To be dependable, productive, and impressive. We wear that superhero cape proudly. We believe we can get everything done and still keep moving forward without pause.

But what I’ve learned is that when I’m wearing that cape, something always suffers — and most often, it’s my health.

Sleep gets shorter. Water intake decreases. Meals become rushed or skipped. Exercise disappears. Rest feels indulgent instead of necessary.

The intention behind the cape isn’t bad. I want to show up for my children. I want to support my friends. I want to contribute meaningfully to my community. But there’s a difference between loving people well and neglecting myself in the process.

The oxygen mask analogy is overused for a reason — it’s true. If you don’t secure your own oxygen first, you cannot help anyone else. If you are depleted, exhausted, undernourished, and overwhelmed, you are not functioning at your highest capacity.

There are seasons where more sacrifice is required. When you have a newborn at home, survival mode may be necessary. But once we move out of those intense seasons, the question becomes: Are we still sacrificing ourselves unnecessarily? Are we people-pleasing? Are we saying yes to events and responsibilities that quietly erode our well-being?

One way to assess this is to look at your basic needs. Are you sleeping enough? Drinking water? Eating consistently? Taking moments to breathe?

If the answer is no, you might still be wearing that cape.

In this chapter, I encourage you to create what I call a Joy List. This isn’t meant to be complicated or overwhelming. It’s simply a written list of things that bring you joy — both big and small.

Maybe it’s walking your dog. Maybe it’s gardening. Maybe it’s watching your favorite show on Netflix. Maybe it’s making a meal that only you love but have avoided cooking because no one else in the family prefers it.

For me, one joyful task is spending a few hours each month preparing soups and broths to store in my freezer. When I’m done, I feel prepared and cared for. I feel like I’ve taken care of myself. That sense of accomplishment brings me joy.

But joy doesn’t have to take hours. It can take two or three minutes. Sitting with my dog. Reading a few pages of a book. Brewing a special tea.

The key is to identify what brings you joy and make it visible. Write it on a sticky note. Place it on your computer. Keep it somewhere you’ll see it when you feel yourself slipping back into superhero mode.

When you start to notice that you’re overextending, glance at that list. Choose one small thing. Do it intentionally.

This week, I’m committing to reading the Valentine’s Day books I bought from my favorite bookstore. They’ve been sitting on my shelf because I’ve been busy taking care of everyone else. If I’m going to encourage you to take off the cape, I need to do the same.

You don’t have to save the world this week. You just have to take care of yourself.

Take off the cape. Choose one thing that brings you joy. Do it for you.