It Isn't All About Me, Or Is It......

There’s a book by Max Lucado, It’s Not About Me. Obviously it’s a self-help book, and the title is pretty self-explanatory. I’ve read it, I’ve re-read it—all in an effort to live a life that’s not about me. Living a life that’s not all about me is a little harder than it seems. Let’s face it—we live in a world filled with narcissism and instant gratification. Add to that the fact that I’m an only child, and it’s easy to slip into the it’s all about me mode. Maybe that’s why I like to write. When I write it’s all about me.

Life is complicated. Relationships are complicated. Sometimes it’s hard to draw the line between something that impacts you and something that’s truly all about you; that can be a fine line. People you love make their own decisions, choose their own path, follow their own heart. And you don’t understand. Maybe you try hard to understand, but maybe you don’t try at all. Maybe you just make it all about you. I’m guilty.

Sometimes it’s easier to focus on how something impacts me than it is to try and understand how it impacts someone else, especially someone I love. And then there’s the guilt. The guilt of not wanting to try and understand, because it’s exhausting. The guilt of taking the easy route.

Sometimes it’s about [emotional] survival—mine.

Sometimes, it’s all about me.