How Often Do We Know What’s Best for Ourselves or Others?

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2076

Abstract

l going to go for what feels good over what is good nearly eight times out of ten. And it’s not even a matter of being a total bonehead (which I can’t deny being from time to time). It’s more a matter of simply not knowing what’s best.Was “best” being <a href="https://readmedium.com/in-every-pile-of-poop-there-is-a-pony-6a5f475249f9">hospitalized without health care insurance</a> shortly after getting a decent job and a rent-stabilized apartment in Manhattan?Or was “best” flying home from Prague alone instead of with that guy I’d met the year before there and with whom I’d made such exciting plans?Here are just a few “bests” that I was certain were “worsts” and you can add to this list ad infinitum:<ul><li>Not getting the job I just interviewed for at Oxford University Press (because it paid squat and I can do better).</li><li>Not graduating with honors because of that stupid course in comparative literature, <a href="https://readmedium.com/introduction-to-ancient-norse-mythology-6a828e337483">Introduction to Norse Mythology</a>….which we read in the original archaic form of Icelandic it was written in (because I learned that when push comes to shove I can master noun cases).</li><li>Spending fifteen months in a shared apartment up in Inwood while trying to find an apartment of my own (because in my sixteenth month I got the rent-stabilized apartment I’ve lived in ever since).</li><li>Having repeated <a href="https://readmedium.com/living-with-hives-1ba653180355">outbreaks of hives</a> since I was twelve (because I apparently needed more lessons in how to be ok with not being ok which is actually a pretty valuable lesson if a drag).</li><li>Breaking up with a partner I really cared about and who genuinely loved me because two years without sex is one year, eleven months, three weeks, and four days too much (because we are still great friends).</li><li>Having one of the most heartbreaking break-ups with a friend and quasi-crush who still refuses t

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o speak to me (because I learned that feeling like shit after something like that is the appropriate feeling and doesn’t need to be fixed).</li><li>Still paying off my student loan debt thirteen years after graduating after having long long ago paid off the very modest principle and now basically paying those greedy fux loads of interest (because I keep having enough money to do so and now I really pay attention to what I’m signing up for and, wth, I got a degree from an Ivy League university which has gotten me some damned good jobs).</li><li>Dumping my first husband to <a href="https://readmedium.com/nice-girls-dont-use-needles-33712f676779">live with a junkie</a> who eventually overdosed and died (because that junkie saved my life and was the first person to love me for me).</li><li>Being essentially estranged from my family of origin (because I know which part of that is mine and can address it while letting them live their lives without me trying to make it all better).</li><li>Being mired in active alcoholism and drug addiction for nearly twenty years (because now I can hold out my hand to another woman in recovery and assure her that she can get and stay sober and she’ll see she can believe me).</li></ul>And this is a list that grows longer every day. Every day I have to put up with something stupid, painful, confusing, unpleasant, tedious and/or just plain wrong. And a fair amount of it I do to myself (sheesh). I’m guessing you do, too. And here we are, still upright, still slowly moving forward and holding out our hands to other confused, angry, anxious, shut-down, miserable people who, in turn, are doing the same for others.We’re practicing a unique form of alchemy by taking the shit of our lives and turning it into gold that makes a positive difference in other people’s lives. And we’re doing it blindly without a clue whether it helps or not.I can live with that.© Remington Write 2020. All Rights Reserved.</article></body>

In general terms….never

After a friend of a friend was “caught” by her sons sneaking a smoke after having one lung removed due to advanced lung cancer, our mutual friend asked a nun he worked with about what he could do to help this woman heal.

I should note that the nun’s response is totally apocryphal and yet it’s stuck with me for well over 15 years now.

According to this Sister, sometimes healing is dying.

WTF?

That may be a very catholic perspective but it does hold a tiny kernel of truth that I’ve learned the hard way. Maybe you never do this (yeah, right) but I’m always in it for what feels the best. I deeply dislike being uncomfortable, in pain, uncertain, or wrong. I really hate being wrong. So I’ve developed a number of strategies to ensure I never have to feel any of those things. Take an educated guess at how well these strategies have worked out for me. Base that guess on how well yours work for you.

I’d like to be very clear that I’m not sure about the good Sister’s take on this matter but I do know that no one is less qualified to be deciding what’s best for me than me. And that goes double for me thinking I know what’s best for you.

If you find me giving you advice, feel free to ignore it. I probably don’t know what I’m talking about.

I’ll always go for the candy

And we all know where that’s going to get us. At the very least, in the dentist’s office. Even knowing that, I’m still going to go for what feels good over what is good nearly eight times out of ten. And it’s not even a matter of being a total bonehead (which I can’t deny being from time to time). It’s more a matter of simply not knowing what’s best.

Was “best” being hospitalized without health care insurance shortly after getting a decent job and a rent-stabilized apartment in Manhattan?

Or was “best” flying home from Prague alone instead of with that guy I’d met the year before there and with whom I’d made such exciting plans?

Here are just a few “bests” that I was certain were “worsts” and you can add to this list ad infinitum:

Not getting the job I just interviewed for at Oxford University Press (because it paid squat and I can do better).

Not graduating with honors because of that stupid course in comparative literature, Introduction to Norse Mythology….which we read in the original archaic form of Icelandic it was written in (because I learned that when push comes to shove I can master noun cases).

Spending fifteen months in a shared apartment up in Inwood while trying to find an apartment of my own (because in my sixteenth month I got the rent-stabilized apartment I’ve lived in ever since).

Having repeated outbreaks of hives since I was twelve (because I apparently needed more lessons in how to be ok with not being ok which is actually a pretty valuable lesson if a drag).

Breaking up with a partner I really cared about and who genuinely loved me because two years without sex is one year, eleven months, three weeks, and four days too much (because we are still great friends).

Having one of the most heartbreaking break-ups with a friend and quasi-crush who still refuses to speak to me (because I learned that feeling like shit after something like that is the appropriate feeling and doesn’t need to be fixed).

Still paying off my student loan debt thirteen years after graduating after having long long ago paid off the very modest principle and now basically paying those greedy fux loads of interest (because I keep having enough money to do so and now I really pay attention to what I’m signing up for and, wth, I got a degree from an Ivy League university which has gotten me some damned good jobs).

Dumping my first husband to live with a junkie who eventually overdosed and died (because that junkie saved my life and was the first person to love me for me).

Being essentially estranged from my family of origin (because I know which part of that is mine and can address it while letting them live their lives without me trying to make it all better).

Being mired in active alcoholism and drug addiction for nearly twenty years (because now I can hold out my hand to another woman in recovery and assure her that she can get and stay sober and she’ll see she can believe me).

And this is a list that grows longer every day. Every day I have to put up with something stupid, painful, confusing, unpleasant, tedious and/or just plain wrong. And a fair amount of it I do to myself (sheesh). I’m guessing you do, too. And here we are, still upright, still slowly moving forward and holding out our hands to other confused, angry, anxious, shut-down, miserable people who, in turn, are doing the same for others.

We’re practicing a unique form of alchemy by taking the shit of our lives and turning it into gold that makes a positive difference in other people’s lives. And we’re doing it blindly without a clue whether it helps or not.

I can live with that.