Be Selfish

“I was called selfish once. The more I thought about her accusation, I saw it as a badge of honor instead of a negative dagger thrown my way.”

February! It's the month where we celebrate love. Soon you will see hearts and cupids everywhere you look. There are so many accounts in which we pull from to give and show our love, but most women forget to replenish that account. There's a reason why every pre-flight procedure reminds you to put your own oxygen mask on first.

We need to honor and have respect for ourselves, and quite frankly that sometimes means being selfish. The word “selfish” has a negative connotation, but the actual definition, in my view, is not.

"Selfish: Lacking consideration for others; concerned chiefly with one's own personal profit or pleasure."

And why the heck not?!  Sometimes it is imperative to lack consideration for others in order to zero in on what you need.  Sometimes, being chiefly concerned about your own needs is what is necessary.  Especially if you are not receiving those needs elsewhere.  

Are we meant to go through this life, bleeding ourselves dry of happiness only to bestow half-hearted happiness upon others? Because I can assure you that true happiness will only be given for a finite amount of time, before it feels like an obligation.  How far is that going to get you?

Most can see through that facade like a crystal clean, streak free window.  Most people can sniff out inauthentic gestures, (even if they still prefer the gestures) creating tensions in relationships.  Wouldn't it serve better if everyone could win?  Winning on all levels would resemble a future where you truly feel fulfilled giving your precious time and love to those that you preciously love.  No one feels the love from a gesture you HAVE to do, including, and maybe most importantly, you.  

I was called selfish once.

When my dad transitioned to hospice from his cancer battle, I phoned all of his "side of the family" to come and visit with him while he was still lucid and was still "dad."  He fought hard with lung cancer, and we were told it had spread to his bones and would eventually progress to the brain.  My sister and I were taking care of him full time, and prior to that I was managing his care and appointments.  Once he was home we only got a few weeks, and in no time at all, his days and nights were running into one timeline which made us very, very sleep deprived.  In one moment, like a light switch, he became confused and erratic, and like a baby, we tried to sleep when he slept.  It was at this point, we only wanted what time we had left with our father.

My very entitled paternal side of the family, (who is not used to respecting anyone else's feelings or boundaries), and may not understand what empathy is, decided it would be a perfect time to come and go as they please.  They would knock on the front door, causing our dog to bark and wake him, and us.  We tried, along with the hospice nurse, to explain his very fragile state.  The horrid cancer had eaten through his skeletal system, rendering his bones like glass.  My father, who in his health was an unstoppable force, was exactly that.  Throwing his legs out of bed haphazardly to go do something extremely important.  My sister and I, sleeping on either side of him in chairs and benches to stop him in his tracks.  You don't know how tired you can feel after months of handling cancer appointments, followed by weeks of sleep deprivation, whilst trying to manage a medication schedule.  We did this because we loved him, and we wouldn't have it any other way.  

My dad's family offered to help, then fell asleep watching him, left when things got tough, and suggested we put him in a facility instead of ask for their help.  They continually went home to eat, sleep, and lead their lives, and arrive unannounced at all hours of the day and night to visit with him.  I felt like I was in a dark comedy film, especially when my dad's brother lit up a cigarette mere feet away from the oxygen tank, while completely undermining the no smoking rule we had in the house.  It was just another calculated move in the insinuation to prove to me that they would not be told what to do by me, our hospice nurse, or anyone else.  They made it clear that although I was living with my dad at the time, it was NOT my home.  My dad would have been, and probably was, both heartbroken and furious as he tried to transition to the other side.  

My sister and I stole the few precious moments we could have with our dad between his side's careless and entitled visits, even when he became unresponsive, undermining his wish to not be seen like that.  Dad always said if people didn't see him when he was alive, he certainly didn't want those people to come look at him when he was dying.  But they came.

My sister and I weren't tired because of our dad.  We were tired because of his side of the family taking and taking without giving.

At the funeral service, I endured glares from across the room that exactly defined the statement, "if looks could kill."  I heard from others that my aunt was telling others I had been selfish.

Darn right I was selfish.  I took the precious moments I could, albeit small and fleeting moments, because I knew I wouldn't get a second chance.  The more I thought about her accusation, I saw it as a badge of honor instead of a negative dagger thrown my way.

There are hobbies we want to begin, healthy routines we want to start, and goals we want to accomplish, but we don't start.  Why?  It's simple.  When we list our priorities, we tend to put ourselves on the back burner, or perhaps not even on the stove!  

Does this notion benefit anyone?  Does it benefit your children, who get the mom who is short with them because she is stressed?  Does this benefit your partner, who isn't getting the person he or she fell in love with?  Does this benefit your friends who aren't getting the best version of you?  Does this benefit you, who isn't feeling replenished in any of these interactions?  

If we give fully and authentically, we shouldn't feel depleted or short changed as long as balance is sustained.  If you aren't receiving back what you are giving out, you have my permission to be selfish.

If you aren't acknowledging the missing pieces of what you need from others, or from yourself, you have my permission to be selfish, and wear it as a badge of honor.

It's very easy to say, "just go do the thing."  But sometimes there are very real limitations in our path.  Dandelion & Opal was created to burn down my limitations, as well as yours.

No time?  Archway to Ballet lessons and workouts are so short, you can do most of them in the time it would take to hard boil an egg!

No confidence?  Take the beginning ballet course in the comfort of your own home.  Build confidence to get out there to take a traditional class, or keep working within the course.

No adult classes near you?  Archway to Ballet was created with the adult novice in mind.  This means the technique is taught to your adult mind and body skill set.  You won't feel like you're surrounded by kiddos, with a teacher who is teaching to kiddos!

Curious?  With Archway to Ballet, you can get a functionally fit ballet workout, with safe and solid foundations to benefit you in your day to day life, before committing to a schedule or tuition at a traditional studio setting.  

Be selfish. Permission granted.  

Be the best version of you.

Be selfish. 

Dandelion & Opal’s mission: Transforming women’s lives through fitness, inspiration, and motivation using the art of dance with accessibility and inclusion.

I created Dandelion & Opal to reach women who cannot attend regular, traditional studio classes due to logistics of time, availability, or lack of self-esteem and confidence. Courses are created at home, for your home, and designed for small spaces. Not only is it an educational journey, but also a motivational and gamified one!

With Growth and Gratitude,

Ms. Nicolyn

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