Self-Centered?

Self centered, narcissistic, ego-driven, full of hubris are all negative connotations about a person expressed and diagnosed and seen from outside the person and usually these are derogative words.

How do we think about ourselves? How do these words, thoughts and ideas reflect the actual thoughts and feelings we have about our selves during the course of our  lives?  How can I write about my feelings today compared with my thoughts and feelings, like when  was four years old?

For I have discovered similarities. I had already decided about right and wrong when I was three and my mother's tiny strawberry plants wandered onto our neighbor's yard. I thought they were ours.  The neighbor thought otherwise. I knew I was capable of walking to the park next to my mother and the baby carriage without having to hold on to the handle. My mother had even told me her dog Toddie, whom she had to leave in Frankfurt, Germany, knew how to walk to the end of the block and not go into the street when she walked with  her ten pre-school children. I was at least as smart as her dog. My mother thought otherwise.

I had much to learn about living in society, about the rules and obligations I had and my parents had, to keep us all safe.

I debated with my math teacher in eighth grade about labelling the multiplier and not the multiplicand. Of course I had to label my work the way the teacher wanted, after I had my say.

I had some successes when I spoke up for myself, voicing my opinions, which disagreeed with what was told to me. I convinced the Foreign language department head in my high school that if I passed the German 1 exam at the end of the year, without sitting through the classes, they would have to enroll me in German 2 for the next semester, and they did.

Gererally, I was successfully socialized. My life has been defined by my dedication to the service of others, to my husband, children and grandchildren, to my students, then to my patients. I am a good listener and I like to think of myself as a good friend. I donate money to charities I believe are worthwhile, I protest the unfairness of abortion and immigration policies that I know are unfair and should be unlawful.

The question now arises,  who am I to myself? In general, my obligations to others in my personal sphere are greatly diminished and I have the luxury to decide both my present and my future for myself. And I am at a loss. This I have not been taught.

A Grateful Morning 4/23/21

I am awake, but I have not yet opened my eyes. I must have slept in. I feel the morning light through my eyelids. I feel my head resting in the crook of my left arm. I am so delighted my wrist is not paining me. I try hard not to sleep on it. And my left shoulder, too. It only likes certain positions ever since I fell on it in February 2019. Before the lockdown. My left   hip rests across my right one as if I was planning to get out of bed  before I was even awake. I remove my arm from under my head and I sink further into my old comfy feather pillow. This pillow has cradled me since childhood. I took it from my bed when I went off to Vassar in 1955  and it has cushioned me forever. I smell its comfort, slightly reminiscent of my shampoo. I do not like detergent that has its own scent. My all cotton sheets are soft and scentless. Those commercials advertising sun=dred sheets that smell like flowers only make me sneeze. My right hand cups my left breast, hugging me.

I caress my body in amazement . Nothing hurts, no stiff muscles, no charley horse in my calves. I begin to stretch , slowly, examining fingers and ankles and reveling in this wonderful feeling.

I straighten myself beneath the covers, inhaling the absolute quiet around me. It is still early, but I hear less than others, which in early morning is another blessing.

Let's see, I think. What day is this? I'll have to check the weather to see when it will be a good time to take my walk. Ah, it's Friday. What shall I prepare for Shabbat dinner tonight? Eva, Steve and I have so few of these Shabbat evenings together left. She will go East for her brother's unveiling next week, and the following week I will go west to my great nephew's bar-mitzvah. Then Grant's high school graduation and it will be time to pack  up, store my furniture and move back to New York.

Macroeconomics March, 2021

When  I was a young, divorced mother of three in the early 1970's, my young family was reduced to lower middle class standing, from the solid  middle class which was the level of the community in which we lived.

I had left my teaching job when my youngest was born. When my husband left us, my youngest child was not yet three years old.I was only able to get part=time work as a supplemental instructor. My parents helped me achieve a master's degree in Psychology by babysitting and by lending me money, which I had a monthly obligation to repay. I found  a job as a member of the school based support team in a nearby school system.

I dropped the children off at their schools, drove to my work, picked them up, took them to religious education, to swim  and dance classes, and we survived.

What saved me all those lean years, was the ability to shop sales.

By waiting until after Columbus Day, we were able to purchase school clothing and winter coats on sale. 

In January, I was able to stock up on sheets and towels and to replenish what my husband had removed from our home.

By the end of the decade, I was earning enough money to live our lives more comfortably, but we always shopped the sales.

Now I see that option is greatly reduced.

Stores no longer have large amounts of stock to sell off-season. Technology helps predict how much of a product they will need. If they need more, they order it as needed. Shipment is almost immediate. No storage issues, no need for sales.

Consumers pay what is asked by Amazon, charge cards increase their balances again and families cannot save for future needs.