I earned the right to be selfish
Not in quite the way I thought.
I often think of myself first. I care deeply about how I spend my time. I curate my days meaningfully even when I’m grasping at meaning. I overanalyse and journal about the joys and complexities of my present. I dream about my future often. I think about where I might travel next summer. Or which hobby I’d like to pick up. I buy stuff, some expensive, when I see something I like in the store. And I talk, unbridled, about all of these things with my friends.
Lately, there are murmurs of guilt each time I think about myself. When war, crimes, poverty, and destruction are daily realities, I wonder if I’m being selfish. When we don’t talk about the climate and environment anymore, I wonder if that’s what I should care about. When I meet people who are in service of others, I wonder— should that be my path?
And yet, as a recovering people pleaser, I know that these murmurs are also echoes of old habits. Ones where it was easier to flow with the tide and set my wishes aside. Where I avoided difficult conversations and let offences pass unspoken. Where I showed up for others, but not for myself.
It’s hard to know where to place this guilt.
Is it a wake-up call, nudging me toward a new purpose?
Or just a slimy sliver of my past I need to squash?
I earned the right to be selfish. I put in the work to honour myself before others. I set a goal and I go for it, finally ignoring what people might think of me. It would be sacrilege if I lamented my progress even before I became comfortable with it.
I journaled about it one day and that’s when it hit me. These feelings might very well be echoes of a former version but the guilt isn’t entirely misplaced. It’s a signal. A beacon on how the selfish version of me can move forward.
I realised that these pangs of rue tend to come up when I’m building the life I’ve always wanted. I’m not there yet. I’m in the in-between—at the cusp where it still feels far away, still tiresome but I’m on the journey.
And in this life I’m currently building, I’m meant to choose heart over mind. Mine and others. Be selfish in who I show up for but show up for someone anyway. Design a slow, rich life that nurtures me like a warm blanket on a winter day and maybe share the blanket with someone who needs it. Give myself a hug and then reach out.
These uneasy murmurs are teaching me what I need; what I lack. Selfhood and sisterhood. And I'm going to be greedy as I listen.