A balancing act between self-care, self-respect, shame, and the Greater Good
Even though I’ve been using the phrase “I’m selfish” for most of my life, it’s become increasingly apparent to me over the past few months whenever I’ve said, “I’m going to be selfish today and do … xyz.”, and meant things like “… and write on my own blog,” “… and sew myself a skirt,” or “… and take the day off” (after I’d been working virtually every day of the week, including weekends, for weeks or longer).
These rather distorted thoughts illustrate very well how “being selfish” in its various forms is often used as a weapon, especially in “Western” society. It would be much more precise to explore the question of what intention drives us to do things and which of these might even be a basic need or a desire. And that is exactly what I’m going to do here.
Self-Care
When it comes to the question of what motivates us to do or not do certain things, the options aren’t limited to selfish or selfless. Even though my internal, socialized system keeps pushing me back to one of those two.
In recent years, self-care has become increasingly emphasized as a counter-movement to constant self-sacrifice. The idea is that we also need to take care of ourselves, that resting and taking breaks are important, and that we should treat ourselves every now and then. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?
Well… yes and no. It’s basically true that we all need periods of activity and periods of rest. But as long as it’s presented as something special—that we’re allowed to treat ourselves to this self-care as a luxury every now and then when we’re “being selfish,” or even just that we need a justification to rest, cleanse ourselves, and nourish ourselves (on whatever level)—then an imbalance automatically arises.
After all, not many people would say, “Now I’m going to treat myself to a little activity or work.” Or even if we’ve already been awake for 23 hours: “Now I’m going to treat myself to an hour of sleep, and then I can just keep going.”
Self-care has been and remains an important counterbalance to constant busyness—a way to start by paying attention to our own needs. But it’s not the ultimate goal we’re aiming for if we want to lead a balanced life.
Self-Respect
A few weeks ago, I was discussing this very topic in a group and mentioned that I’m “selfish,” and a colleague introduced me to the beautiful term “self-respect”.
Self-respect goes beyond self-care, selflessness, and all the nuances in between. That’s because self-respect doesn’t make being active or resting something special or a default. It goes one level deeper and examines our fundamental attitude toward ourselves and our self-worth.
When we respect and honor ourselves, just like we so often do with others, it’s about finding a balance between activity and rest. Then it becomes clear that we need to sleep when we’re tired, eat when we’re hungry, and contribute, create, and give when we’re full of energy and inspiration. Then every step we take is out of respect for ourselves. Then every moment is special and, at the same time, completely normal.
What if others need help?
A special case is when I’m specifically asked for help, and/or I can see that the other person really needs it. Isn’t it selfish then to say, “I can’t do it right now,” when I’m just a little tired?
This is a crucial question. People often use the example of oxygen masks on an airplane. Parents and adults are supposed to put on their own masks first before helping children or others. The reasoning behind this is that we can’t help anyone if we aren’t getting oxygen ourselves. But what if I still have a little oxygen left, yet I know the other person has reduced lung capacity? Where does self-respect end and selfishness begin?
It’s especially difficult to answer this when we’re so strongly conditioned to help others immediately, without pausing for a moment to assess whether the other person is truly as helpless as we’ve labeled them in our minds.
Rescuer – Victim – Perpetrator
When we are seemingly selfless helpers, we fall into a “rescuer complex”, where we portray ourselves as special and superior because we no longer want to see ourselves as helpless victims.
As a result, we very often not only relieve the other person of responsibility but literally snatch it away from them. Then, a seemingly selfless act of help becomes pure selfishness, since we have to turn the other person into a helpless victim so that we can feel good, valuable, and powerful. In such a situation, it can even easily reach the point where, instead of rescuing, we become the perpetrator, because the other person didn’t ask for this kind of help at all, and it is therefore perceived as an intrusion.
This is a very subtle trap, since it feels good for us to be the savior, and objectively speaking, it might even actually help in the short term.
Just recently, I experienced once again how someone tried to turn me into a victim in order to help me, and how uncomfortable that felt in the moment.
In the past, I would have perceived this attention as positive and supportive, because I finally felt seen in my pain. But as soon as we allow ourselves to see and acknowledge our own pain—and know that we can deal with it and how to do so—we tap into our self-efficacy and no longer need to slip into the role of perceived victim, which is just a small step away from becoming energy vampires.
Personal Responsibility and Self-Efficacy
Once we remember that we can (and must) take full responsibility for our own contribution, it becomes easier to recognize that we must never relieve anyone else of their responsibility for their own contribution.
Specifically, this means that in cases where I’m asked for help, my first step (after checking within myself to see if I’m truly able and willing) is to try to help others help themselves, so that they can rediscover their personal responsibility and self-efficacy.
Only in cases where my active contribution is truly needed (e.g., when more than one person is required for a task), and I also currently have the capacity and the desire to help, do I actually step in.
And even then, only if I know that I’m currently a good fit for the task. Because even if I’m generally able and willing to help, if I’m currently exhausted, sick myself, incapacitated in other ways, it’s my responsibility to say no. In such cases, I can help find a suitable person if needed, but nothing more is required. And if I’m not the right person for finding a replacement, not even that is necessary.
What about children, the elderly, or people with disabilities?
In some situations, it’s clear that we—or someone—must help. A newborn can’t feed themselves, get dressed, and so on. A similar situation applies, for example, to people who are bedridden or paraplegic. In those cases, there’s no question as to whether they really need help. However, the question remains whether it is up to us to help, or whether someone else can step in if we don’t have the capacity to do so. Ideally, there is always a network of people who can also help.
If this network breaks down, or has eroded over many generations, the answer to the question above is no longer so easy. A single mother who is completely overwhelmed will still feed her child as long as she is somehow able to do so. However, this and many other situations highlight a larger, systemic problem that usually cannot be solved overnight, one that involves more than just ourselves and the people we’re trying to help—and is out of scope for today’s post. Ideally, such situations are the exception rather than the rule.
But the others…
Situations like the one just described—with the single mother—can also easily trigger resistance. Especially in people who tend to give too much.
Then thoughts like this arise: “But if so many others weren’t so selfish (and might even call it self-care, even though it might have gone far beyond that already), then everything wouldn’t end up on my shoulders.”
And from a purely objective perspective, that may even be true. But here, too, the question is: Why do we keep playing this game? Where are we once again casting ourselves as the victim, the savior, or even the perpetrator? This question isn’t meant to be judgmental, but rather as an invitation to look behind the curtain.
Because only when we seriously and honestly question thoughts and patterns that aren’t good for us, can we break free from this vicious cycle. And sometimes a system has to collapse first in order to reform itself in a balanced way afterward.
Ultimately, though, the question always remains: what do we actually feel responsible for, and why? Where might we be taking on too much responsibility, but also where might we be taking on too little?
Collective Thinking and Ubuntu
What is known as “Ubuntu” in many parts of Africa—but which essentially lives on among all indigenous and nature-oriented peoples—is a form of collective thinking.
Ubuntu can be very roughly translated as “I am because we are.” Even though this only scratches the surface, the idea is to take into account the common good of the entire community—even beyond the human community—that is, all plants, animals, fungi, and other living beings, as well as the rocks, water, air, and land. In this context, there is no “you” or “I”—rather, it is the thriving of the collective that matters.
Nor is it communism, where someone is ultimately in power and exploits the people. Collective thinking in the indigenous sense always focuses on the land and all who live on it, forming a circle or network where everyone involved is truly of equal value.
In such a system, an individualistic person might quickly fear being left out. For a long time, I was afraid that if I gave a lot to the community, I wouldn’t have the strength left to then also take care of myself.
Through my experiences in the wilderness with small groups that had to learn to think collectively, however, I came to realize that one extremely important point is to see oneself as part of this collective or community.
Self-respect is just as important in that case, and it’s also important that we pay close attention to our own needs, because otherwise we’ll eventually become a burden to the others. So from this perspective, it’s actually much more selfish to care for everyone else “selflessly” just so we can see ourself as the heroine, only to then have to be supported by the group because we’re burned out or have pushed our body too hard.
When we take care of our needs from a community-oriented perspective, we know that we’re doing this now so that we’re nourished, which in turn allows us to be there for the community in the long run.
For example, if a tree is “selfish” and takes the water and nutrients it needs to grow tall, strong, and healthy, it can provide a much better habitat for many other living beings than if it were constantly providing for others or holding back because someone else might need it.
At the same time, however, it also involves a mutual trust that if I look out for you, you’ll look out for me, and that, overall, everyone’s needs are met.
So what is truly selfish?
Given all these explanations, it almost seems as if it’s nearly impossible to be selfish in a destructive, negative sense. But that’s not entirely true either.
For example, if we take much more than we really need—sometimes even more than is good for us—then that is definitely selfish in the original sense (or even greedy).
What we truly “need” is, of course, an extremely relative and flexible concept, but for anyone who wants to seriously grapple with this topic, it’s important to constantly ask: Do I really need this right now? What might be behind this—what do I actually need? And: What serves the common good the most right now?
The Core Question
On my journey toward self-discovery, I repeatedly encounter challenges with questions like: “Does it currently serve the common good more to support my family with tasks that arise in the moment, or is it important in the long run to continue exploring my path to find out how to reduce the number of tasks that arise in the first place?”
The Answer Is a Journey of Discovery
If we’re struggling with the question of whether something is selfish or actually urgently necessary, then we need to embark on a journey of discovery. Because only when we decide to do things differently than we usually do, take the risk of making “mistakes,” and occasionally act either a little more selfishly or a little more selflessly, will we gain a finer sense of what’s truly right in the moment—and what isn’t.
After hitting an emotional and energetic low point myself, I took an entire lunar cycle to be completely “selfish” and not worry about others at all. I cut off almost all contact and made myself unavailable.
And it was quite challenging not to jump right back in and do something for someone else. It was also challenging to confront feelings of failure and inadequacy. But the longer I truly gave myself time for this journey of self-discovery, the more clearly I could sense how important it was to center myself more deeply within, to arrive at my true self, and to stop running away from important inner processes by constantly acting outwardly.
And inner healing—so that I can subsequently act more consciously and cause fewer thoughtless wounds and pain to myself and others—is, in my view, anything but selfish…
