When a Self is born to a culture that places Others (family, community) before the Individual, then putting the wants and needs of Self first becomes a dare reserved for people with ovaries (or balls) of tungsten. No, my Wicked Luvs, steel would be way too soft to withstand the kind of fiery hell this topic tends to bring out of certain people.
A certain Mrs. Someone told me, “It must be easy to be you. No heart, no responsibilities, not a care in the world that doesn’t involve making you happy. Enjoy it. The day of judgment—”
I hung up the phone on Mrs. Someone’s judgment. Not because I was afraid of what she thinks will happen on her omened day. I ended the call because listening to a person go on and on about how I will sizzle in her pits of self-righteousness, if I don’t live my life according to her whims, gets old rather quickly.
You are probably wondering what invited Mrs. Someone’s wrath. Well, she was upset because I didn’t celebrate my birthday like “normal people do.” According to her, I needed to have a party with a guest list that included all those “people who have the right to show me how much they care about me.” This was followed by how I will get the “chance to correct past wrongs” by not having a small wedding, and letting my “selfishness hurt other people’s feelings.” I nipped the you-must-have-a-wedding-for-other-people bit in the bud before the ridiculous concept could ever bloom in my soil.
Mrs. Someone changed topics. She started telling me about what people we both know have been up to. I smiled. I was almost sure we were having an okay conversation… until she told me that a person—whom I haven’t talked to in years, due to the fact that this being is the worst kind of Leech ever spawned—needs financial help. Because Mrs. Someone enjoys giving information I already know, I often indulge her need to speak by letting her repetitions dissolve in cellular phone blah-blah oblivion; people have things they need to get out of their chests, right?
Then Mrs. Someone said, “How much can you help with?”
“What?” I said, trying to find a thread of meaning. But cellular phone blah-blah oblivion devours information so damn efficiently. “Help with what?”
“[Leech] only needs a little something to start with,” Mrs. Someone said. “If we all pull together and help, it shouldn’t be that much money. It’s the right thing to do.”
I said no. And I reminded her why I was saying no. That’s when Mrs. Someone started to spew the bit about me having “no heart” and how I should “enjoy it” before “the day of judgment.”
I know that at least one of you is thinking, Witch, and why do you put up with such crap? You already know what Mrs. Someone is about. Just cut your losses and move on.
And that, my Wicked Luvs, is the tough part that comes with putting the Self first without forgetting that other people do the exact damn thing, even if they don’t see themselves doing it.
A bit confusing, I know… so let me continue explaining what I mean.
Putting ourselves before others is not the same thing as being selfish or heartless. It means (to me) that we love who we are enough to take care of us. It means that we’ve made a decision not to swim with the current, unless that current makes us happy. A happy Self-lover… (Not that kind of self-love, you perverts! That would be a different post).
Anyhoo, a happy and healthy Self-lover must recognize that he or she is in charge of protecting and cultivating his or her own joy tree. He or she eventually learns to understand that the fact that other people might be put out with his or her decision to put his or her Self first, those feelings don’t make them bad people or the enemy. It just makes them individuals in a group of other people just like them. And when a person has a bunch of copies of themselves telling him or her, “Yes dearie, you are doing the right thing, walking on the right path” and so on, he or she tends to believe that they have the secrets of the universe, and therefore they are right. Always.
Well, that’s a load of crap, Mrs. Someone. No one has the right to tell me what’s best for me, especially when the wellbeing of my body, my mind and my soul isn’t exactly what they are thinking of. Do what you must to make yourself happy. I approve. But if achieving your happiness involves an attempt at making me miserable, then do revise your plan. Please. For I suspect that your balls of holy steel will have nothing on my ovaries of earthy tungsten when it comes to defending my right to be me on my own terms.
“You’re so funny Mrs. Someone; popping that kind of jokes on a silly Witch.
Oh, holy sparkly vampires on super emo mode! You’re freaking serious.
No, no, no I’m not laughing at you. It’s just that bullshit makes me cackle.”