I Am Not As Important As I Think I Am: The Death of the EGO 2.0

How do I write this without sounding like a total jack ass? Hmm. Not sure it's possible. Let's see what happens...

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Lately, after my inadvertent vow of silence, I have been spending a lot of time realizing just how much effort I was putting into my own importance. The titles and image I was projecting to the world.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always considered myself the kind of person who puts a lot of thought into other people.

I had a friend tell me once when I was in my 20’s that I reminded her of Gabrielle Solis from Desperate Housewives (you know, the most selfish, superficial one on the show).

I was shocked at the idea that someone could find me selfish. Everything I did, I did for other people. All the time.

My whole life, and every single thought seemed to revolve around making the people around me happy.

As the years went on, I had more time to consider this.

I was doing everything for everyone else.

But why?

The harsh truth…it was all for me.

I wore the clothes I thought I should wear because I wanted people to like the way I looked.

I said the things I thought people wanted me to say because I wanted people to like me.

I tried to help people whenever I could because I wanted people to think I was kind.

No matter how hard I’d like to deny these facts, the truth is, most of the things I was doing for other people really had an underlying desire to care for myself.

And it was exhausting.

When I started my Basic B*tch Seeks Enlightenment journey, I learned about the ego or what Wayne Dyer called Edging God Out. I wanted to “die to the ego” like all the spiritual gurus said I should…and I tried. Really, I tried.

I’d like to think I succeeded in a lot of ways, but now, after the last 30+ days of my life, I’m realizing, that sneaky little EGO of mine had been lurking below the surface all along…it just took on a different form.

In fact, over the years I’ve realized my EGO has taken on a lot of different forms, and I’ve named them all.

Regina George.

Brad.

And this last one, I think we’ll call her Mel.

But first, I should probably tell you how I killed Brad.