How acts of service became the excuse to hide me
Some of my earliest memories is taking tea to my mother’s bedroom: at the age of seven, walking down the long corridor with steaming hot tea to where she was laying in bed - careful not to spill.
At the time, I thought I did it because I cared. But, if I am honest with myself, the act subconsciously reinforced that love is to be earned.
And as I grew older, and was bullied at school, I’d spent a lifetime trying to achieve, trying to be charismatic, or trying to know the right people - all in the hopes that people would like me.
These days it’s so ingrained that it’s become a reflex, not a choice. For example, applying to masters degrees not because I want to, but because I think it would make me look good.
It comes out most often with those closest to me: a perpetual need to bring them water, clean up after them, or buy them presents - all in a bid for them to love me.
I tell myself it’s because I care, but - honestly - I am just scared. I am scared that without my efforts they would leave.
A couple of days ago, driving back from CrossFit, a friend shared how he spent 48 hours alone in the bush meditating this past weekend.
“It was incredible,” he said. “When you are alone, it’s just you and your thoughts - no cellphone or people to distract you. And when you’re alone, you’re confronted with yourself.”
And I thought if I am alone - would I like me? If I am confronted with myself, would I like the person I am?
Because, if I am honest, I am not scared that those closest to me would leave. Instead, I am petrified that they won’t like the real me.
And that is why I conceal my imperfections with achievements or acts of service because I thought the real me - my imperfections and my humanity - was too much to handle.
“You are not too much,” my best friend in university used to often tell me. Now I just need to believe it.