3/2/07

There’s a spot in the book "Atlas Shrugged" where Henry Rearden’s brother says "I am not your slave."  And Henry replies, "No.  Am I yours?"  You see, Rearden had spent his entire life providing for these people, and they did nothing except expect it as their due. 

I’m not going to pretend that I understand the whole philosophy behind the book.  But I found a lot I could relate to.  For example, the feeling that everything I do is not only unappreciated but also expected.  That I am tied down in such a way that I will never get away.

The book seemed intent on expressing the idea that living for anyone other than yourself was nothing short of a sin.  That was what I found hard to take.  Not because I disagree, but because I agree completely.  And yet, here I am.  Struggling day after day, not for my own happiness, but for the comfort of those who depend on me to provide that comfort.

It’s so hard to explain…why would I do that?  It’s irrational.  And yet, the issue is still here.

The fact is, I don’t value my own happiness at all.  On the list of things to achieve, it’s fairly far down the list.  I suppose that somehow relates to the fact that I utterly loathe myself, but I lack the credentials for psychoanalysis.  I would like nothing more than to care only for my own happiness.  In fact, I often play the part of the utterly selfish egoist.  But it’s just playing.  It’s almost as though I’m afraid that if I allow myself a small amount of selfishness…

I have no self-value at all.  Each day is lived, not because I want to, but because someone else wants me to.  And this doens’t bother me at all, because if not for that reason I would have no reason at all.  The fear I feel for death is waning, and each painful day it becomes a little more inviting..and each day I become more selfless.

I become less of myself.