But I’m a good person, really
Why are we so hung up on seeing ourselves as “essentially good”?
This morning, I was in a cafe restroom that had one of those automatic paper towel dispensers. I enjoyed seeing and feeling the brown paper rolling out of the machine, so even though my hands were mostly dry, I stuck it under the sensor a second time so I could get two sheets rather than a single one. “You didn’t need that! That poor tree didn’t need that! You are not being environmentally conscious. You are part of the problem!” said the voice in my head.
Yesterday, over lunch with a friend, I made a negative comment about a certain group of people then immediately felt disgusted with myself. I spent the next half hour back peddling, explaining to my friend how there was really nothing wrong with this group and that the real problem was my own biased thinking and prejudices; what a small-minded person I was, so easily subjected to the influences of social conditioning, and how I needed to “work” on this.
The day before, on the phone with my grandmother, I listened to her gossip about someone we both knew. I tried not to encourage this, but I threw it my two cents worth as a collaborator anyway then felt icky afterwards. Then, while having a shower, I thought about how I actually didn’t always like these long phone conversations with my grandma, but how I felt good about myself…
