Fighting For Yourself

Yesterday morning, I was watching a video at my grandparents place while waiting for breakfast. Mom came down and asked if I wanted to eat downstairs. I've probably lived a few months of my life at that "farm," and never once ate downstairs. After all, we're only ever down there for a few days at a time; being there is all about seeing my grandparents; and eating a meal together is one of the best ways of socially interacting with them.

So, I replied that I wanted to eat upstairs. Mom then said that there was only food for six people, and there were already six people at the table, so I would eat later. My video was just finishing, so I came upstairs to see how breakfast was coming for myself. It wasn't so much that I didn't believe Mom, but more that I needed to see it to understand it. Indeed, there were six people at the table, Mom being one of them. She seemed to offer to get up and give up her spot for me, something I wasn't going to do, so I returned to the basement and put on another half-hour video.

Coming upstairs a half-hour later, the table was vacated, my siblings were still asleep, so I had breakfast all to myself. Grandma offered to zap my food, suggesting it was cold, and I got confused. Didn't Mom say there wasn't enough food?

I went to her in the kitchen and complained, loudly enough for Grandma to overhear parts of it, and Mom got such a pained look on her face, like I was accusing her of starving me. Grandma stepped in, and to save Mom further trouble, I explained away the complaint as "microwaves are bad for your health." (Don't ask how that worked, it just did.)

I later found out that Mom had said there were places at the table for six, which was why she offered to have me eat downstairs in the first place. And this whole incident got me thinking.

I hate hurting other people. Having been somewhat accident prone as a child, it was something I did a lot, smashing plates, cups, test tubes, lamps, and occasionally some people too. I just can't bear the look on their faces when I've failed them once again. This was one of the biggest reasons I wanted to disappear a few years ago--at least then I would stop hurting all the people I love.

The only thing I could conclude from this incident was that if I hadn't been so interested in my self-preservation, nothing would have happened. Why did I complain to Mom? Because I didn't want to look like I was late to a meal. That I was slow. That I looked like I didn't care about spending time with the family. That I experienced a perceived slight at missing family time. And so I acted to shift the blame for this incident to someone else, as well as to inform the "guilty" party that I was slighted.

Maybe I was being heroic for taking things directly to the person involved, as opposed to announcing the wrong for all to hear; or gossiping to other people. But I don't view it that way. If I hadn't been so concerned about getting what is mine, no one would have been hurt.

Life does not owe me anything. I can believe that all I want, and yet when push comes to shove, I still act like certain things belong to me, such as a good reputation, warm meals, and people that care about me. When they suddenly disappear, I feel an injustice and fight back; and in so doing, I become exactly the type of person I despise: someone who toots their own horn.

I've always believed that if someone deserves honour, that someone else will accord it. If no one stands up for me, then I obviously have a higher opinion of what I've done than it deserves, and I should just be quiet. It's funny that way--I've always believed it, but never acted it. It's as if my spinal cord has been severed at the neck, and a complete disconnect exists between my mind and my body.

Still, I can dream. One day, perhaps... I will believe that nothing is mine, nor will be mine. Take quietly what is given, and murmur a thanks for every gesture, great or small. Accept what happens without fighting it, and remember that I am not judge, jury, or executioner, even for the things that happen to me. The five senses are too often deceived. And violence in any form--physical, verbal, or intellectual--will be abhorred at any cost to myself.


"Nonviolence is the greatest force at the disposal of mankind." (Mohandas Gandhi)