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We’re aware that the ego is the “small self” and I was thinking what the ego might say if we were to question it. And this is what I got!
Hello, I’m your Ego. You might not know me by name, but we’ve been close for as long as you’ve existed. I’m the voice in your head that whispers sweet affirmations of your importance, your value, your superiority – or sometimes, your inferiority, your flaws and how not “good enough” you are! But that’s just me keeping you within the bounds of what’s familiar. I protect you, keep you safe from shame, fear, and vulnerability. I control you and keep you front and centre, where I think you belong.
But today, let’s play with a dangerous question – one that shakes the very foundation of my existence and my persona:
What would it be like if it wasn’t all about me?
Now, I’m not one to indulge in these kinds of thoughts often. After all, if I’m not the star of your life, who is? But let’s entertain this wild idea for a moment and imagine a world where you – and thus I – are not the centre of our own attention.
Without Me, Who Would You Be?
If it wasn’t all about me, you’d have to turn your gaze outward. Really outward. To other people, their feelings, their perspectives, their desires. I know you already think you do this sometimes – maybe you’ve convinced yourself you’re considerate, compassionate. But let’s be honest: it’s usually because I tell you there’s something in it for you, right? A bit of validation, admiration, a sense of pride in your goodness. You see, I’ve carefully framed even your acts of kindness as a reflection of you.
Now, imagine that wasn’t the case. Imagine you did something for someone without caring whether it made you look good. No praise, no recognition. You wouldn’t even get that warm feeling in your chest that says, “I’m a really good person.” Just pure action, for the sake of another. Doesn’t that sound…unsettling?
If I wasn’t the lens through which you experienced the world, how would you define yourself? Would you still matter? Could you even exist in the same way? You see, I am what gives your actions meaning, context, and narrative. Without me, there’s just…nothingness.
The Fear of Losing Control
Here’s another question to ponder: if it wasn’t all about me, who would be in control? Because let’s be clear – I like to keep things in order. My order. I ensure you take only calculated risks, ones that still keep your image intact. I steer you away from vulnerability, from rejection, from failure or abandonment, from moments where you might look…small.
Without me, you’d be free to take risks that don’t pay off. To fail spectacularly. To look foolish. You’d allow yourself to admit when you’re wrong – openly, without excuse, without self-preservation. I shudder to think of the chaos that would ensue if you lived like that. There’s power in control, in keeping yourself at the centre of your universe. Why give that up?
The Price of My Protection
Of course, my protective shield isn’t free. There’s a cost. You’ve probably felt it – those quiet moments when something in you yearns for a deeper connection, a more meaningful existence. You want to experience true intimacy, the kind that comes when you let your guard down, when you let other people take centre stage.
But every time you get close, I swoop in with doubt, reminding you how risky it is to be truly open. What if they don’t understand you? What if they see your flaws? What if you become…forgettable? Better to stay in the safety of me – where your worth is dictated by how well you’re doing, how admired you are, how safe your reputation remains.
Yet, deep down, you know that the life I offer is narrow. It’s like living in a gilded cage. It’s shiny, but it’s still a cage. The bars are made of fear, control, and self-obsession. Sure, I’ve convinced you that everything outside those bars is dangerous, but sometimes you catch glimpses of what’s beyond – real connection, unfiltered joy, freedom from constant self-assessment.
Who Are You Without Me?
So, what would it be like if it wasn’t all about me?
You’d be free. Free from the constant comparison, the endless need to measure yourself against others. Free to love without needing to be loved back in exactly the same way. Free to take risks without worrying about failure tarnishing your precious image. Free to exist without needing everything to be a reflection of your worth.
You’d experience life without the filter of me. You’d see things as they are, not as they relate to you. And that, my friend, is a terrifying thought – for me, anyway.
Because without me, you might discover a deeper sense of peace. One that doesn’t depend on approval, success, or how you’re perceived. You might find joy in simply being, in the interconnectedness of all things, in the realisation that you’re just a small part of a much larger, infinitely complex web of existence.
But here’s the real shocker: you might not need me as much as you think. And if that’s true, what happens to me? What’s left of the Ego when you no longer need to be the centre of everything?
The Ego’s Paradox
Here’s the paradox I face: I keep you safe, but I also keep you small. I make you feel important, but I trap you in a life that’s all about maintaining that importance. I give you the illusion of control, but in doing so, I strip away the freedom that comes from surrendering that control.
So, the next time you’re tempted to ask: “What would it be like if it wasn’t all about me?” – be very careful. I might lose my grip, and you might find yourself in a world that’s bigger, more expansive, and far more fulfilling than anything I’ve ever offered.
But remember, I’m always here, waiting to remind you that the safest place is the one where it’s all about me. Because, after all, I’ve been with you from the beginning. And letting go of me? Well, that’s the scariest thing of all!
It’s food for thought – what might our life look like without our ego?
Sent with Love
Dorian 🙂
