The Worst Enemy

We can be our own worst enemy.

I've read that this happens to people who can't say the word NO. They give and give and give and then, when they're the ones who need something and the other people they have helped in the past don't deliver, they are left empty-handed with these words reverberating in their heads: "But I've given you so much? Is this all I deserve in return?"

It's very easy to give in to a pity party at this point. It's also not constructive in the least. The truth is, that it is not other people who have to learn to be more giving. On the contrary, they are giving what they can. We're the ones who have to learn to be more selfish.

In a world where altruism is considered to be a gift towards mankind, this may smack of bad taste but bear with me. I am not talking about a selfishness that hurts others, but about the one that helps us as individuals. Those of us who suffer this way, need to pay more attention to ourselves. To love ourselves more so that when people cannot go the extra mile for us, not because they don't want to or because we aren't at the top of their priority list, but simply because life gets in the way and meddles with their plans, we don't fall into the same old, same old that makes us feel like we're not worth the attention.

We have to stop giving others importance to make ourselves feel good. It's important to tend to the needs of others, but before we do that we have to look inside ourselves and pay attention to our own needs. Only when we have a good relationship with ourselves and our self-image, can we give to others what they really need from us - good, old, unselfish love.

What Matters

Sometimes, when all else seems shattered, a special friendship can be the one thing that keeps you afloat. Most mornings, I stand in for my husband at our souvenir shop. I was sitting in my writing corner, typing at my laptop the way I usually do when customers are scarce, when a ninety-year old man came in. A vigorous man despite his walking stick and an old friend of my dear, late father-in-law, he always has an interesting anecdote to tell about the time he spent in Greece during World War II. But this time he came to show me a letter he had received from an old Sicilian friend of his who lives in Milan. I was surprised and honoured when he held the letter out to me and said, “I want you to read this, to see what real friendship is all about.”

I read it out loud. The letter was brief, but full of affection, the words clear and sharp. What impressed me the most was a poem the old man’s friend had written about the beauty of spring. It was so full of wonder at nature’s grandeur and at life and the last few lines were aimed at the love of his life. In a few fanciful words, he said that perhaps they had been born for that moment, to savor the beauty of nature and its Creator.

When the old man bid me goodbye, I was left with a sense of admiration and peace. These people are ten years away from living for a century and they can still find something to marvel at, like the beauty of a blossoming meadow and a friendship that has weathered the passage of time.

I look at my life and I see that I have such a friendship. A friendship that, if nurtured, will surely keep me company, like a soft, warm, comforting blanket for the rest of my life.

There is still hope for me.