What does it mean to have a superpower in personal development?

Your superpower is the thing you knew before anyone taught it to you. The instinct. The knowing. The ability to sense what is true before you have evidence. Most people had it as children and gave it away piece by piece to fit in. Reclaiming it starts with remembering the moments you just knew.

How do you rebuild trust in yourself after being betrayed?

You stop asking what you could have done differently and start remembering what you already felt. In almost every betrayal, there was a moment your body knew. You overrode it. The work is not starting over — it is learning to listen the first time.

Why do we suppress our intuition to fit in?

Because belonging feels safer than being right. At 11 years old I did not want to talk about the mysteries of the universe. I wanted friends. So I talked about boys and makeup and crawled into the box they needed me in. The cost of that performance is your connection to yourself. And it compounds.

Who Stole Your Superpower? — Notes from Miranda Johnson

At a young age, some of us were taught, you can be anything you want to be. Others were told, here is your box, stay put.

It was in those quiet moments that you might have noticed things others did not, or maybe for you it was in the middle of chaos when the truth became clear.

I remember a few of my superpower moments, times when I could feel people and directly sense how they felt about me. It became so strong that whenever I doubted myself, a dream would come to me and vividly show me the truth.

One particular day in my sixth grade year of middle school, I was hanging out with a group of girls. One of them was my best friend, and it was common for me to spend the night at her house. With that came her other friends.

I remember doing my best to be "normal" and not give in to being bossy (that's a story for another day). I just wanted her friends to be my friends too because she talked so highly of them and they seemed cool. My insides screamed "no" so loud, but I pushed that feeling way down and tried harder and harder to align with the things they were doing.

If it was boy talk, then I tried to talk about boys. If it was makeup, I struggled to talk about makeup I didn't own and had never used. But wait, my mom had lipstick and perfume — I could at least tell them about that.

Truthfully, what I wanted to talk about was the mysteries of the universe. I was so excited about all things spiritual. I even read the Bible on my own at a young age just to see what I could uncover about the world. But what eleven-year-old girl, already the pastor's daughter who spent three services on Sunday, Bible study on Wednesday, and teen night service on Friday, wanted to hear more about God or the unknown?

So, I opened my box and crawled in.

Then one day I felt something. I was on the phone with my best friend and it no longer felt like our normal, cheery call. It felt distant. Again, I pushed that feeling down and told myself, Miranda, you are overthinking again (another story).

That night I dreamed.

By this time, my dreams were so common that they had become a routine. I often talked them out with my mother, who was a dreamer herself and always seemed to understand them.

This dream was different. It was so clear. I died in my dream. I was laying in a casket but I could hear everything, see everything, and knew exactly what was happening. Four girls were there — my best friend and her three friends. Each of them was happy I was gone. They even made comments about how much they did not like me. In the dream, I felt a pain in my chest. It was heartbreak.

The next day I woke up for school. My mother was already gone, so I had no one to explain my dream to. I headed out for school and, as usual, barely made it to the bus stop. I had a habit of missing the bus because secretly I just wanted to stay in the safety of my home. Feeling people's energy all day was exhausting, and then having to learn on top of it all was more than I could bear.

At school, I looked for my friend at our usual meeting spot and she wasn't there. All day it seemed like I kept missing her. I even asked others if they had seen her. Finally, at the end of the day, she and the other three girls approached me — with a large crowd behind them.

Side note: I grew up on military bases where no one was ever really related. Here in Summerville, South Carolina, everyone seemed to be cousins and had the same last name as all the street signs. When a group came near you, it wasn't usually a friendly, "Hey girl, how are you?" It was, "What's up girl? You ready?"

My body went on high alert. The dream rushed back.

My friend walked up and said, "Miranda, tell me to my face what you were saying behind my back."

My heart dropped. I fought back the tears and made sure there wasn't a tremble in my voice. A crowd was forming.

I didn't want to defend myself. What I wanted to say was, How could you think something so awful? She knew the real me. Instead, what came out was, "So you need all these people to confront me?"

Now I was in fight mode. I was angry. I already had confirmation in my dream and I wasn't going to back down.

Before anything could start, a ton of teachers rushed in to break it up.

That afternoon, I rode the bus home knowing she would never be my friend again. At that point, I had no friends.

"The bold letter S on your chest belongs to you."

They tried to steal my superpower.

I began to talk to myself as if I wasn't worthy and no one would ever accept the real me. I let their actions make me doubt who I was. They tried to steal my joy, until my mother came home and spoke to the super inside of me.

Now, I say this knowing that many people don't have someone speaking life into them. This wasn't the first time and it wasn't the last time. Unfortunately, it was the most innocent of times. People will always try to steal the innocence and greatness inside of you.

It will take all of you to remember those childhood moments when you just knew. Those moments need to be used today and strengthened.

The bold letter S on your chest belongs to you.

Trust your dreams. Trust yourself. And let no one steal your power.

New notes, straight to you.