Anyway, last Friday I realized how difficult it was going to be to make my bed. It was easy enough to pull out the sheets and mess up my multiple mattress pads/toppers/foam, but it was going to be a difficult feat to tuck my sheets in since two sides were against walls, the end was against my desk and half of the remaining side was against a wall (I'm in The Nook). So I did what seemed natural...I pivoted away my desk (it doesn't actually slide, it actually tilts back and forth when you try to move it) and began pushing my bed away from the window wall. This would have been fine if the risers were somehow attached to the feet of my bed. Unfortunately, as you may have surmised by now, they were not.
The bed naturally came crashing down as two of the risers toppled over due to friction. In attempting to pick the bed up again, I lost another one of the risers. So then my bed was lifted up by one corner, and partially resting on all of the boxes underneath my bed. It was at this point that I noticed that my bed frame was becoming detached. I decided that I should probably leave this job to people stronger than me, aka boys.
This plan would have worked out if I were patient, but I really wanted my bed to be fixed (it was around my usual nap time and it was also raining and all I wanted to do was lie down). Abby and Isabel and I figured that we were as strong as any boy and more crafty to boot, so we (mostly they) worked on reattaching the bed frame. We also thought it would be good to remove my mattress (at this point with new sheets attached) so that the rising of my bed would be easier. This did work out, but only after making a mess of my room what with all of the things that belonged under my bed, plus my newly cleaned sheets, plus my mattress, plus my pillows, plus my nightstand, plus the air conditioner all spread across my floor. Anyway, the bed is fixed and very comfortably separated from my window so that I never have to deal with this again. Catastrophe managed!
Although this is a hilarious story and I'm sure would have made for a classic Friends moment, it was not super fun for me and brought up a lot of things that I don't like to think about; namely, I like doing things by myself, I like being self-sufficient, I like fixing problems, I can have a terrible attitude because of a very silly thing and I hate asking for help. For at least an hour I thought about asking for help but decided to push through with my own efforts; after all, I got myself into this predicament and when I live in the real world I plan on solving all of my problems without a bunch of 20-year-old guys (or any other sort of friends) at my disposal.
Usually when I think about selfishness, I think about other people. I think: I am so good at not being selfish! I am always giving up my comfort for others! I'll get meals at strange times to accommodate someone else's schedule, I'll share my flex, I'll listen to anyone's complaints...how could I be selfish?
But recently I've been realizing that self-absorption can take more forms than not sharing your flex points, or your cookies, or your time. Self-sufficiency is just a sneaky way to glorify yourself. Thinking that I don't need other people only feeds my ego, and thinking that my ideas are better than other people's (even when, occasionally, they are better) reinforces my superior sense of self which is totally false. There is literally no way that I am better than everyone at everything...and even when I limit my scope, throw out sports, music, meeting people and other things that I am professedly not good at...there is no way that I am always better than everyone, let alone anyone at the things I do excel in. Just because I like to organize my life does not mean that other people's methods of organizing are terrible. But these facts do not stop me from thinking that I am amazing at everything.
I need people and cannot live in isolation; nor can I live with self-elevation or even self-preservation. I'm called to live in Christ and to die to my "self," including all of my ego, self-sufficiency, selfish desires and self-fulfillment (the idea that I can make myself happy through my own efforts). Any little bits that I want to hold onto - how good I am at picking the best prices at the grocery store, or how easy it is for me to motivate myself - are fine in practice but they do me no good when I fail to recognize the strengths of others and the weaknesses of myself and my approach to life. I'm not saying I shouldn't have a personality or personal goals, but starting by ditching myself and taking up the cross, it becomes a lot less threatening to ask for help fixing my bed and a lot less rewarding to offer my help to others - because the reward isn't in the esteem I gain from others but in my heart, words and deeds aligning with Christ.