Tatum Savage

Most of us need a crash course in what it really means to be selfish.

During the peak of the pandemic, while we were locked at home alone for days or weeks on end, I found new freedom. The more time I spent stuck inside, the more layers I shed and the more myself I became.

Tucked away from the eyes of the world I didn’t have to perform normalcy. I wasn’t constantly aware of my facial expressions, my body language, making eye contact, or how much space I was taking up. I talked to myself, and laughed loudly at my own jokes. I sang at full volume while I danced around without any anxiety. I could tap and snap and fidget freely without any stress, every moment of the day.

I did what I wanted and what felt good to me — I wasn’t putting the comfort of others before my own needs.

At first I didn’t notice how free I felt — how could I when the whole world was either scared, sick, or dying. But as the pandemic aged into our consistent reality, and we slowly started going out in the world again, I noticed my behaviour, and what I cared about, had changed.

It was mid-afternoon and I was at the corner of two busy streets waiting to cross. The hum of engines and honk of horns were muffled by Madonna — Hung Up playing in my headphones while I bopped along with it. My head and body were nodding along while I snapped my fingers and tapped against my legs. I audibly clicked my tongue along to the beat.

I wanted to admire the world, to bop, to snap, to hum so I did. It felt good to do it. I didn’t want to stand motionless, unsmiling at the corner staring straight forward with my eyes locked on the crosswalk light like I had for as long as I could remember.

It felt selfish of me to do these things because they might annoy, distract, or inconvenience someone around me. The potential discomfort of strangers was more important than my own comfort! I wasn’t blasting music loudly from a portable speaker like an asshole, I wasn’t jumping into traffic or pulling the stranger next to me into a waltz — I was doing something harmless that I loved.

As the months went on I found myself even more comfortable putting my needs and comfort first, but I wanted even more freedom of self.

I started questioning my behaviour and decisions differently by focusing myself at the centre, questions like:

What do I need? Do I want to do this? Do I like this? Is this something I care about? Is this helping me? Is this making my life easier or harder?

They’re simple questions but they opened my eyes even further. I started to unpack more and more silly little moments where I felt guilty for being selfish and realized that none of those moments were really selfish. The way we use that word today is tainted, it’s thrown around carelessly anytime a person puts their needs at the centre of their own life.

There are countless examples that I’ve noticed since that day at the crosswalk. I felt selfish for cancelling plans, or for asking my family to buy a dessert I wasn’t allergic to. I felt selfish for not putting the environment above my own needs anytime I’d buy paper towel. I thought I was selfish anytime I cared about my needs, or asked someone else to.

This poisoned idea of selfishness has robbed me of thousands of moments every year since my brain could store memories. It’s probably robbed you of thousands of moments too!

But it’s not selfish to put yourself at the center of your own life. We only get one of them, and in the middle of our own lives is exactly where we belong.