I, Me and Myself

I,Me, & Myself 

I, me, and myself. What an uncomfortable focus for a person to have for their life! What could have caused such a singular, inward sense of direction? 

God only knows, you might say. Perhaps, but having met an interesting, attractive person who adopted the philosophy above, I was forced to hypothesize about what drove her to that way of life. In part, I learned she had a fragile self-concept. She did all in her power to protect it from criticism or disagreements. Thanks to her father’s persistent, unforgiving demands she grew up thinking she needed to be perfect, a goal she frequently failed. Consequently, she thought she was undeserving of love or trust from others. Her only salvation was to forget about others and love herself, do what pleased her.

How uncomfortable for the people she was with! Her reluctant agreement was evident to others. More often if their desires didn’t serve her, she would withdraw from the group. 

Her own discomfort was even greater. Her philosophy meant that when she was faced with a challenge or a problem she chose to try to solve it herself.  No help resulted in greater effort on her part or living with an undesirable situation. Asking for help was like admitting she was a faulty person. Accepting an offer of help could be done if she could see that she could return the favor.

One other element played into the reluctance to accept another’s help––they couldn’t be expected to do what was right. Some bitter experiences––broken promises–– led to that conclusion. A father’s, a boy friend’s, and even a mother’s inconsistent support meant trusting others was a risk not worth taking. Instead, I will only rely on myself. To do that I have to concentrate on caring for me only.

One of the purposes of my novel, Baggage burdens. is to show how needlessly difficult a life can be when the I, me and myself philosophy is lived.

Jill’s main problem returns. Where should I go? Robin’s? At eleven thirty at night on a weekend? She’s probably out with Brian. My parents’ place? Come crawling back? I’ll never live it down. Gramma Maxwell? By this time, she’ll be asleep. How can I disturb her? 

Jill shakes her head. No evident solution. The only thing she is certain of is staying with the boys is not an option. 

If only they hadn’t ruined everything. We were getting along so well. I have to learn that I can’t trust anyone. 

She tells herself, Don’t trust anyone. Don’t trust anyone. Count on yourself only. Its repetition acquires acceptability.

 “Having people do something extra for me is kind of like doing me favors,” says Jill.

“Something wrong with accepting favors?”

“Yes. I once read an unreturned favor is like an unpaid debt. With everybody visiting me in the hospital and covering for me while I’m stuck here, it feels like I have a ton of debts. In a way, it’s like I’m running a deficit budget. I’ll never be able to return the favors.”

“Have you thought of a favor as being a gift?”

“Same thing.”

Jill’s quick response silences Bill for a while.

        haiku capsule:

in a suspect world

count on no one but yourself

I, me, and myself

Next blog: Growing Beyond I, Me & Myself

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.

When have you found life harder because you had to do something yourself?

I’d like to hear your response. (callingkensaik@gmail.com)

I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.

All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.