Reclaiming Selfishness
Selfish is a dirty word. We learn as children that selfish is just about the worst thing we can be – when someone takes our toy it’s us that are scolded for being selfish and not sharing; when we do things that make us feel good we’re told we’re selfish, that we should show more consideration. I am an only child, and grew up perhaps more so than others with the shadow of selfishness. My parents were desperate for me to not conform to the only child stereotype, so mindful selflessness was bred into me; I was encouraged to take every possible opportunity to give up what I wanted in favour of others.
But what did this mean for me as a teen and an adult? Just recently, I’ve noticed a pattern of martyrdom in my behaviour in relationships and friendships, usually when I'm trying to be liked. I’ve always capitulated too early, gone along with others when it’s not what I've wanted. I remember distinctly at university, giving up my place on a much looked forward to day trip because there wasn’t enough space in the car. I thought that would make people like me, but no one really noticed.So all this matyring has left me two steps back with a punch in the stomach. Not only am I suffering, missing out, but actually, no one thinks better of me for it now we’re all grown up. Perhaps selflessness is not the desirable personality trait we’ve been led to believe?Somewhere along the line, the definition of “selfish” has been skewed. Google it and you’ll see selfish defined as “lacking consideration for other people; concerned chiefly with one’s own personal profit or pleasure”. To me, this definition is a far cry from how I’ve always perceived it – as doing something enjoyable or valuable to me...well, full stop. As doing something for myself rather than finding something to do for someone else. That doesn’t mean I lack consideration for others; it means I’m also having consideration for myself.
A year ago I briefly joined a social netball team with a group of strangers (briefly because a bad back killed off my hopes of netballing glory). I distinctly remember the moment we handed out bibs for the first time, and I dearly wanted to be Wing Attack, my childhood position. Ordinarily I wouldn’t say anything and would end up being Goal Keeper in an effort to be selfless and likeable. Then I had this thought, one so alien I still don't know where it came from, that said: “you’re doing this for you, and it’s up to you to get what you want out of it”. So when the Wing Attack bib came up I said “I’d like to play there”.And you know what? I live to tell the tale. No one killed me. No one instantly hated me. I think they were relieved not to have to do the awkward selfless dance over it. And that was the turning point at which I realised that you can have something you want and still be liked. Was it a selfish act? I don’t think so. I still had consideration for the others, I wouldn’t have clawed the eyes out of another girl who wanted that bib. I just put my own needs first.
Now, of course, it’s my business that gets my selflessness. With this new thing in my life I’ve yet to learn how to even decipher my needs from its, let alone put them first. Like I wrote earlier this week, about investing in yourself, I treated myself to a non-working bath. All I wanted to do was lie in hot water with the lights off and the woody scent from a candle in my nostrils, rather than reply to comments and emails like I usually do. And that felt so selfish. So selfish to spend time on nothing, on myself (and the conflation of those two things is troubling in itself, right?).And I think that’s where we’re at with selfishness and womanhood. I don’t have a family yet, but I can only imagine how much that sense of ‘if it’s for me, it’s selfish’ increases with having people depend on you. Last week I went to a Sas Petherick workshop, and I think I’m right in saying I was one of the only women there without children. At the beginning of the workshop, Sas asked us to close our eyes and visualise all the things it took to get us to that room. All the people we had to organise, plans put in place, military precision required. For me it was a case of saying to Dan "I’m not going to be here on Saturday"; for others this was so, so true.
And I bet they felt selfish for being there. When really, all they’d done up until that moment was consider others. They hadn’t upped and left their babes with no warning and empty cupboards. They'd spent weeks in preparation, drawing up timetables, calling in favours, making sure that every other person in their life was ok, before they turned to consider themselves.So this is why I’m getting us to reclaim it. We need to stop mixing up the meanings, conflating things that are for ourselves, and not considering others. The two are not mutually exclusive. You deserve value and investment in yourself, and, you know what, your family deserve that too. You all deserve the best you.If this has piqued your interest I’d encourage you to read this post by the inspirational Mel Wiggins on taking up space. And also, listen to this short episode of Being Boss where Kathleen dismantles that aeroplane oxygen mask/self care analogy with aplomb.
Now tell me: do you feel selfish? 😊
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