Stubbornly Self Sufficient

I secretly smile when I see a parent struggling with a child screaming “ME DO! ME DO!” because I know just how the kid feels.

From an early age I decided if you want something done, do it yourself. As a result, I’ve been self-sufficient my whole life- earning my own money, paying my own way, carrying my own burdens. It’s how I’ve approached my business, personal and volunteer life and so far, it’s worked like a charm. Or has it?

Car needs oil? I’ll add it myself. Copier machine jammed? I’ll fix it myself. Piece of lint on the rug? I’ll pick it up myself. I’ve gotten so use to doing everything that needs to be done that I have almost no time left for things I want to do- like nothing but breath, just for a minute.

And I feel guilty if anyone does something for me that I’m perfectly capable of doing myself, even if it’s their job. Like the smiling senior who bags my groceries- shouldn’t he have earned the right to relax in retirement instead of waiting on me when I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself? Or the wait staff in a restaurant- do they really want to hear my food idiosyncrasies of butter on the side, dressing on the side, everything that can be on the side on the side? And my heart sinks if I enter a bathroom to find an attendant cheerfully waiting to clean up behind me. Yes I know these are all honest ways to make a living, so please don’t take it the wrong way. Its not them, it’s me.

And my self-sufficiency does not stop at physical tasks; it extends to emotional issues as well. Bad day? Stop feeling sorry for myself; other people are going through a lot worse. Aches and pains? Just keep it to myself; no one wants to hear me whine. Feeling down? Just dig deep and keep on plugging. Even my leisure activities of reading, writing and running are more solo that social, so as not to pressure anyone else to feel responsible for my entertainment.

I’m thinking about this “ME DO!” lifestyle as I load 10 bags of mulch onto my push cart at Home Depot to the amusement of two strangers, and wonder how many years I’ll be able to keep this up. Do I like to be this way, or am I just saving myself from possibly being disappointed by anyone else? Does it inspire others to work equally hard, or enable them to do less? And if it is true that God helps those who help themselves, shouldn’t there be a posse coming over the hill to help me any minute now?

But there is no posse. In fact, it appears the more you take care of yourself, the more you are expected to take care of everyone else. I’ve purposefully or accidentally set the expectation that if something needs to be done, ask Beth. Beth gets things done. Which is mostly true, but as I get older, sometimes Beth is tired and just needs to sit down for a minute.

And as I do so, I sit next to a child screaming “ME DO! ME DO MYSELF!” stymieing his frustrated mother’s efforts to expedite the process of tying the tots sneakers. But this time, instead of smiling at the youngster, I think to myself ‘Be careful what you wish for kid; you might just get it.’