Selfishness: "Sometimes, I just can't."

"Truth Leaving the Well" by Edouard Debat-Pousan. 1898.

 

 

Telling me to be unselfish? Try it yourself first.

I cannot begin to count the number of times I’ve beaten myself up about being selfish. About not wanting to do something because it wasn’t situationally advantageous to me. Well, that’s a horse that’s been beaten to death. It does not need to be pounded on no more.

You say sorry enough times and people start to believe you really are at fault. I know better now. Most of the times, I’m not. My help is always needed, and as time wore on, they stopped becoming requests. They turned into demands. Why do I still do it? My insides itch when I’m told the consequences of inaction. As I sit there and wait for something to happen, my conscience gets to me. Why wouldn’t you do your best to make sure someone else is doing okay? If they’re not okay, are they suffering? Am I at fault for their suffering? For the situation that ensues because I did not participate? You can argue that it’s indirect, but you cannot say that is the cause. It’s only a shame that I cannot be the cure.

As willing as I’d be to help out another human, I have a greater instinct. It’s self-preservation. My first thought is, “What will happen to me if I do this?” The result? Sometimes I say no. But what I should be focusing on is the following; how many more times so I put myself out there for someone else? Loads of times, really. Always, I do it unconditionally. So don’t blame me the next time I say no, because more than likely, I’ve already feel bad about it. I’m already promising myself that if not this time, I must be of use in the next. Just count me out this time, because sometimes, I just can’t.