A dose of humble pie.

This is a topic that’s hung kind of heavy on me for the past few weeks, and really, the past year as a whole.

The more I look at myself, and give myself honest answers, I can only come away with one answer, and it’s one I don’t particularly like.

I am a bit of an arrogant person. It pains me to realize that, because ironically, it’s one of the traits I hate the most in other people. Perhaps this is so because I don’t like looking into a mirror of myself. Maybe I just don’t like myself, even if that seems a contradiction. I don’t know.

I don’t really understand it, either. Like most people, I have plenty of self esteem issues about certain parts of myself. I’m too pale, too awkward, not as athletic as I’d like… take your pick. Maybe like most people, I try to inflate myself elsewhere to compensate. Or maybe that’s an excuse.

So what, right? I’m proud in certain areas. Not a big deal. Everyone needs their things for themselves, to define themselves.

May not seem like much, but let’s not forget, Pride is one of the seven sins, and far from the least of those.

 

The more I think on this, and the more I reflect on everything, the more it seems like my life has been defined by acts to humble me.

When I was younger, I fancied myself the smartest kid around. Maybe this was because I wasn’t exactly the cutest boy ever, and with my limbs that were just a bit too long for my body, I wasn’t stunningly athletic. I always got picked last in gym class, even if it seemed unfair a lot of the time. So naturally, I took refuge in what I was good at, and clung to it, and assumed that life was fair, like generating stats for a character in a video game. So what if my physical stats weren’t where I wanted? I compensated elsewhere. This was what I told myself. Too bad life doesn’t work like that.

It didn’t take long to surround myself with people that understood things just a little faster, put pieces of a puzzle together faster than I did. Scored higher on tests. I eventually realized that, while I’m still above average, I’m hardly brilliant from a cerebral standpoint. And that’s fine.

 

Some time later, after a short story assignment in a high school English class, that I wanted to be a writer. I sat at home and wrote twenty pages, on the front and back of college ruled paper, until my hand hurt. I’d never imagined how the books I read in the library were so easy to write. Anyone could do this!

I easily shed myself of the illusion that it’s easy to be a writer. The industry is good at that all on its own. I still believe I’m good enough to do it, but I no longer think I’m the second coming of Hemingway or something. I think that’s a fair compromise.

 

When I was coming out of college, I had that arrogant college kid attitude as I walked on campus and saw the guys who trimmed the hedges. Who mopped the floors. Who cleaned the toilets. I’m shamed to say now that I looked down upon them. I always thought that without me, without the academic types, the types who did "smart" things, they wouldn’t be necessary. They were the plebians to the patricians.

So naturally, it was fate, I think, that led to me getting my first real full time job working directly with these people, the blue collar guys that keep civilized life chugging along. It didn’t take long for me to stand shoulder to shoulder with them, to help them stem a seemingly endless tide of odd jobs and irate patricians, one of those people I used to be, who whined when they didn’t get the help they needed instantly. I grew an appreciation for what they did, and gradually, I started to identify with them more than the people who just sat behind a desk all day and pretended that they were indispensable.

Gradually, I found myself understanding. The people who do desk jobs all day? If they didn’t have the guy to unclog their toilet standing by when they needed him, their day would be ruined. But the guy with the plunger? He’d be fine, regardless of what else happens.

 

And when I left that job? I was arrogant again. Even though it was a recession, I told myself I had everything I needed. I had education. I had valuable work experience. Regardless of how lousy the job market was, I’d be working again, and soon.

But after coming so close multiple times, I’ve come to understand that nothing should be taken for granted. Especially not in this day and age.

And even the mantle I’ve worn for so many years? Being the stand up guy? The good guy? The caring guy? I’ve come to learn that every time I come to thinking that too much about myself, life sends me something to kick me in the gut, to remind me that I’m not so strong as I think I am. No matter what I think, or what even other people tell me. I’ve learned to tell myself, over and over, that I’m just an average person. Just an average person trying to be better.

 

It’s important, I think, to remember that pride can come from more than one source. Sometimes, it’s not even about what you tell yourself. Sometimes, it’s as easy as just letting yourself believe what people tell you about yourself. But a wise person should be smarter, and remember that they know themselves better than those other people ever could.

 

 

Regardless of what you believe, whether you believe in god or other cosmic power, I think all that’s happened is more than coincidence. It feels like I’ve been tested all my life, and most of these tests come in the form of pride for me, for whatever reason. I’m sure I’ve had a success here and there, but in true human fashion, I most acutely remember my failures.

I just hope that the next time another test of pride comes, that I’ve learned enough from my past mistakes to finally pass one of these tests. Do I think something magical will happen when I do? No. It’ll just stave off life until the next one comes.

But that’s life. You keep going, or you drop and die. And I’m not a fan of the latter option.

Regardless, we could all use a little humility. I guess I just need it more than most folks do.