For weeks now, at the suggestion of my spiritual director, I’ve been carrying around a yellow Post-It in my wallet. On it are written:
--Make sure I’m putting myself first.
--I’m not responsible for making people happy or always doing what they need.
--I need to have a life first.
--I need to be sure my needs are being met.
I cannot begin to describe how thoroughly, absolutely, horribly each of those grate against my very identity. I was raised to believe that to be good is always to put the other person first, that love consists in ignoring your own needs, that your job is to make other people happy. This may come as news to many of those who are closest to me. Because what happens, it’s taken me almost 59 years to figure out, is that when you try in the wrong way and for the wrong reasons to make other people happy, they end up rebelling. You end up resenting. And the whole thing—your sacrifice, your martyrdom—blows up in your face.
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