Humble Pie

At 38 years old, it's a little odd to suddenly learn something new about yourself. But last night that's exactly what I did.

I've always considered myself humble, sometimes to a fault even. While my closest friends will tell you that's not always the case, and I'd certainly back them up, for the most part I don't sing my own praises. I'm also pretty self deprecating, if yesterday's post didn't clue you in. Sometimes jokingly so, sometimes not.

A lot of that stems from a fear of being humiliated. It's one of my biggest fears. Maybe my biggest actually, because it's the one I've never really talked about with anyone. So if I do my best no to be boastful, and am always ahead of the curve on tearing myself down, then I'm never caught off guard.

Yes, it's laughable to think that I'm alone in that regard too. I imagine most of humanity is terrified of being humiliated.

This is also at the root of my inability to welcome help when I need it the most. Because for the entirety of my life I've equated being humble with being humiliated.

Last night I knelt over the edge of a tub while my best friend's wife carefully washed my hair. I then sat next to her as she took a wash cloth and some mild soap and gently cleaned my face, my stitches and my staples. She then spread balm over my wounds to help them heal.

My friend stood dutifully by, helping where he was able, talking to me, normalizing it all as best he could.

Still ,for so much of it I found myself falling into the familiar rhythms of shame and regret. Someone was doing this incredibly kind and generous thing, and all I could worry about was my unreasonable discomfort. That's not being humble. In fact, it's a pretty selfish thing, to want to rob someone of a blessing they can bestow.

It's going to be a difficult thing to let go of, but I'm hoping that was at least a small step forward.