All Selfish

 We are all selfish bastards. For every action we make, there is a certain need, purpose, or want that is satisfied...and more often than not, this is our own. I am tired of cleaning the house and fixing things. Well, other people don't seem to mind, but I cringe at the sight of all that fur from the dogs that I choose to clean it. I don't like eating junk food or fast food so I prefer to cook my own meals. I am very keen on designing homes, making sure the measurements are right so I do that myself too. Seeing how critical I am about certain things, I stop myself from complaining of all these tedious tasks. In a perfect world, I would like to clone myself so while the other me does all the chores the way I want them done, I can focus on the other things that do not feel like work. 

On top of the personal preferences, there's self image that I think is based on how others see us. There are days that I'd love to go out without having to spend so much time on my hair and figuring out what to wear. Or times that I have to be at an event and be all smiles even when I don't feel like it. Sometimes I say I'm doing it for other people, to make them happy, hence the effort. Am I? Reeeeally??? When all that becomes an effort, I think it becomes insincere. It turns from "I wanna do this from the bottom of my heart" to "I'll do this so they'll be proud of me" or "I'm not a flaker" or "I'll show them I'm strong", etc. I'm not saying this is wrong. I'm actually having this dialogue with myself so I don't complain and realize that I ALWAYS have a choice in whatever I do or say. And it's about being able to live with those choices...may it be a dirty kitchen or an angry friend. 

It's such an irony that being selfish shows how much I care, for others and myself...When selfishly looking good for others so they'll be happy, and, well, self preservation.  I say this because I remember the time I was recovering from my surgery. It was the first (and hopefully the last) time I went under the knife. The pain was terrible! I had a catheter, a sort of wire on my back for the morphine, and a healing incision under my navel that's about 4" long. It was very uncomfortable and to top it off, the morphine was making me dizzy and nauseous! I couldn't eat. I'd throw up after 2 sips of soup. And that pain in my belly, twas like dysmenorrhea plus gas plus ulcer plus IBS times 10! I really wanted to die or sleep until the pain was gone. I didn't want visitors because I knew I couldn't fake it. I didn't want to. I didn't have the energy to deal with the pain and smile, chat or be hospitable to guests. I didn't even care to look at my phone and the internet for days (a miracle in this day and time;)). I didn't care if my hair was all tangled up and haven't taken a bath in days. I didn't care if male doctors saw my private parts. I just didn't care about how I looked like to other people. All I cared about was having the pain taken away, fast!