Breaking Selfish | Sarah’s Blog

Where did we get the idea of “selfish”?

Perhaps like you, I first understood the concept of “selfish” as a child, when it was used to label myself or other children when we were acting in a way that deprived someone else of food, toys, crayons, etc.

“Sharing is caring”, we were admonished, and thus began to associate the act of not sharing with the state of not caring — of being selfish. If there are 10 cookies on a platter and I take all 10 for myself, then I am depriving nine other children of their afternoon snack. I’m being greedy, rude, selfish — all things that we were told it was bad to be.

Later on, “selfish” remained a negative label, especially as I grew up in the church. We were taught to be the opposite of selfish — giving, martyring, or indeed, selfless. We were taught to be kind, to live for others, to serve others, to put others’ needs above our own.

Even later, in the office environment, you didn’t want to be seen as selfish, as wanting to step on others to climb the corporate ladder and get ahead (even if you secretly wanted that in your heart). You wanted to be seen as good-hearted, a team player, and generous. You wanted everyone to know that 5% of your paycheck was going to the United Way, or that you had donated two days of precious PTO to a less fortunate coworker. You were praised and lauded for your selflessness.

Somehow, out of all of this, I arrived at the idea that the problem was the self. Selfish was bad and selfless was good. And selfless meant lessening the self, or perhaps having no self at all.

But… is selfish really bad? Is self-centered really as criminal as we make it sound?

I understand that sharing is caring, and I understood that we were told not to be selfish — not to hoard all of the toys or cookies — so that we didn’t turn into greedy little sociopaths. There is a very fundamental and righteous element of justice at stake, and the abundant need for empathy.

But at some point, the scale tips. We begin to diminish the self, to discount the self, even to harm the self. We make more and more sacrifices. We begin to dip into martyrdom.

I first heard the term “self-care” in 2015, and it completely blew my mind. “We’re… allowed,” I remember asking my friend Tamara, “to do nice things for ourselves?”

It felt completely wrong. The thought of putting myself first carried a huge sense of guilt, like I was committing a (very minor) crime. But over and over after that point, I kept hearing about something called “overgiving”. And about an empty cup not being able to pour anything out for anyone else. And about how it was a good idea when, on an airplane, to put on your oxygen mask first, before helping anyone else with theirs.

I mean, it makes logical sense. I’m not going to be able to help anyone else put on their oxygen mask if I’ve passed out from lack of oxygen.

I’m not going to be able to give and give and give if there’s nothing left to give.

“Self-care is not selfish”, the new mantra goes, trying to rescue the overworked, overburdened, overwhelmed, exhausted, and burned-out — which honestly, today, is most of us.

But I want to take things a bit further. Is “selfish” even a bad thing to begin with? Does caring for yourself lessen the degree to which you are able to care for others?

A lot of writers hesitate to work on their passion projects — their novels, their poetry chapbooks, their memoirs — because doing so feels “selfish”. But is it really selfish? Are we taking away something from someone else in doing so? Perhaps time, perhaps energy — but to which degree are we allowed to keep anything or do anything for ourselves? And who does this “allowing”? Is our purpose in life to strip-mine our time and energy completely for others — to make ourselves martyrs? Or is our purpose to use our creative talents and gifts to help others, by providing entertainment, information, and joy?

As in all things, balance is key. And I’ve learned that — at least, in my own life — the thing that recharges my energy and fills up my cup is writing. If I don’t have a full cup, I can’t pour out anything for anyone else.

If I am going to be useful to anyone in this world, if I am going to stay sane and perhaps even slightly happy, I need to be writing and creating.

Writing, for so many of us, is an act of self-care. And whether “selfish” is good, bad, or somewhere in between, self-care isn’t it.

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Originally published at www.sarahwerner.com on October 19, 2020.