Ever since I realised just how selfish people around me - particularly my parents - are, I've started growing solid disdain for anything related to the ego. For years I've been battling this innate enemy of humanity's in the effort to grow into a person devoid of selfishness... until, one day, a friend of mine noted that in this battle I became what I fought: a person isolated from others, bitter at others' success and jealous of their happiness, eager for compliments yet much more - for anything that would prove to me that I'm just a pathetic, incompetent, unable piece of meat.
If you don't know it, this is how selfish people think: their self-hatred is projected upon others and fueled by every mistake or bad choice they make - and they unconsciously do those plenty. Bad choices - eating and drinking sugary foods, lack of exercise and any sort of outside help (to the point of refusal to accept the help offered for free), among others - might be recognized but are looked over, as if brain turns its judgement system off for the time.
With a lifetime of imbibing such behavior, I can't say that I'm free from it - but in this moment of clarity I have decided to do something that myself two years ago would never agree to do: I will talk about myself and how I feel.
Before I start, I must note that this is not a writing of self-pity. As the rare moment of clarity arises, I can not deny myself the opportunity to let my mind out, to express myself.
* * *
I used to think about myself as a person capable of achieving anything on my own, without the help of others, even friends who have been in the situations similar to mine, - and as such, I projected this idea upon others without giving it a thought. It made me mad when people made mistakes that I had considered obvious or stupid because, I thought to myself, I would never do that, because I'm so damn great I could turn mountains upside down if I wanted to... if. I've already been talking about it, in fact, in a post with a message that had without my knowledge but with full consent of reality turned into a twisted mirror shape of itself.
As I became more accepting of myself and my thoughts - especially those I used to dismiss immediately ("I mustn't be feeling this, it's against my ideal of myself") or gave to justifying ("Well, everybody makes mistakes", as if it somehow made the fact of the mistake go away and me re-emerge glorious and spotless) - I unconsciously did the same for others. People being different is no longer a concern of mine if I didn't understand their point of view, and despite sounding completely ordinary to many of you reading it, it is an achievement for me.
You may have noticed that I talk about myself as someone unique and important therefore. My uniqueness or lack of it is still a struggle of mine which I can't easily overcome, for I have no idea just how different people might be: not enough data on hands. I was surprised to hear when my classmate - who was a clever girl, no doubt - rejoiced in making herself look smarter than me in class. "What?", I thought to myself. "H-- Am I that smart, then?". Not to lie to myself or others: I knew I was a clever fellow from early on, ever since I was able to finish the first four years of school with straight highest scores, - but this moment made me realise that other people, too, thought I was smart.
They never told me about it before or after, and their approval and appreciation I cared for far more than those of the adults who did shower me in compliments - things far too generic for me to care about. It was exciting to learn that, other than not accepting me into their social circles or even as much as talking to me most of the time, they also thought I was smart - a trait that mattered most to me at the time, since up until then I've built my whole self-esteem on the intelligence and cleverness that I've possessed.
* * *
I've always had troubles belonging to the groups I was forced into: school, online forums (I've forced myself, arguably, trying to find like-minded individuals), even university where I thought I'd be an adult at last. It came so far that I used to refer to myself as an alien - a Martian, to be precise, for every alien lifeforms seems to come from Mars - among my friends. I thought of myself as non-belonging so much that referring to myself as a different biological species seemed appropriate. Granted, it sounds closer to a pledge for caring, and, I must admit, such thoughts have crossed my mind more than a few times, but it's not why I say it.
If I say I've never had friends, I would lie, so I won't say that. It used to be true until I met a girl in my university class with whom I've became the closest I've ever been to a human being. Even then, to say she was my only friend would be to pay disrespect to those people who cared about me throughout my life - most of them I've met online and have never seen in person. The point is - I had very few friends, and this fact made me care deeply about each and every one of them... at least, that's what I thought until recently - until now, in fact.
What it comes down it is the fact that I've always had troubles relating to other human beings. Everybody seemed to be alienated by me, nobody would ever come up and just start a conversation or even pay attention to me as I tried to join into one of those spontaniously-formed groups one gets to see when there are too few people to split into groups more fitting to them (on the sidenote: those are the groups I've had most delight with, for they've not only openly expressed themselves - their real personalities that I didn't get to see ordinarily - but they would express the sides I'd never see otherwise). Living like this, when you can only seem to allow yourself to talk to the few brave or needy enough (not to blame them: I was the latter, too) to join me - or, rather, let me join them - is... very lonely. When the only person you can talk to daily doesn't understand stories and tales the way you do, you're only left to talk about the superficial - and you do, just to keep their company.
This is how I learned to accept the company of people I hated - just because they payed attention to me, even if the attention was in form of snarky remarks about the way I walk, the way I talk, the way I act and the way I am. I got this with my mother's milk - if I had any: from what I know, I'm not certain - but the environment I was in reinforced the idea that I must be fit to someone's interests and expectations of me to be worthy of their appreciation, let alone love. This is how I got into the weird relationship with a girl where I was both the manipulated and the manipulator: I accepted the lowly treatment and got the girl submitted to it because it appeared normal to me - not to say that for the first time in my life, I had control over somebody rather than being controlled. I often catch myself thinking that it can't be that bad considering that I have no recollection of feeling something in particular; after we separated - my desire - I thought that plenty of times, only to reinforce to myself why I wanted to no longer let it go. It took time to realise that I, too, was a mess of a person back then, but I'm grateful to have learned that - along with that it's neither normal nor good to be in this kind of relationship.
* * *
It's hard to be human when you have no idea what is expected of you. I tried many things: being submissive, aggressive, outspoken, silent, outgoing (for as much as my introversion allows me) and alone - some put out meaningful results, some only protruded my growing anger over how it all doesn't seem to work. It turned out, quite unhelpfully, that there's rarely any sensible indication of what you've achieved, as people tend to stay silent about what they feel, no matter how much pain it causes. It doesn't help that they don't want to cause this pain to others, because those little disappointments in results are what makes us better persons.
I had to learn about it from my new friend's reaction when she decided to hid the rumours she heard about me and the other friend, a girl; I had to press, because she seemed very bothered by what she held back, and after she told me what was it that disturbed her so much (long story short, it were sex rumours) she admitted that her main motivation to stop with it in the first place was not to hurt my feelings.
She came from a family of a narcissistic mother, so of course she grew up to be overly conscious and sensitive to whatever she says. In one way or another, most of us are shaped in the way she was, though most often not quite as severily. Expressing emotions - particularly those of great strength and those that can hurt others (which, of course, is never true: people choose to be hurt) - is almost forbidden where I grew up, and from what I know, it's not limited to one country. Because a few persons couldn't hold up to what others truly think of them, many learn from the young age that being yourself is bad.
I'm not to blame the world, of course: I know how pointless it is, for the world will never bend to one's effortless wishes. Often, however, it seems that more honesty will not hurt the world, even if a few will have to go through learning about what some people really think of them.
* * *
It's both exciting and terrifying to learn that one can't hold on to the world alone for long. We need people around us, not only to have someone to chat or discuss favourite book with, but to be there for - and for them to be there for us when all seems hopeless and the future - dire.
It's exciting because I've managed to learn a new piece of information that would allow me to fit in more, to be more of a human, to be more relatable, accessible to others. This is what I've been craving for for as long as I live, and finally, another piece of the puzzle.
It's terrifying because I have to make contact with people, reach out to them, which means - risk my ego's integrity. For many it's a fear they can't overcome because of the shelter they've built for themselves to live in. It's no longer a bubble, for it can be bursted fairly easily: it's a bunker, with concrete walls and metal doors to not let anyone who can possibly hurt one in. To speak ill of such seemingly-silly fears is to pay disrespect to people who wish, genuinly, to make contact - but are mortified by the prospective of having their heart broken, so do consider before you judge the closed one.
It is a concern for me, too: reaching out to people is a tiring experience after which I have to recharge - that is, to get into that safe haven where I may not be disturbed and may rest for a while, doing things I like. It takes incredible amounts of energy away - the simple act of talking to a stranger. To give you an idea, I'm more terrified of talking to a stranger than I am of running a marathon or finishing writing a book, both of which are experiences I'm highly opposed to receiving. Still, I do my best, asking for directions when I'm lost or writing private messages online to people I'd like to talk to ("at a risk of appearing a stalker", my mind rushes to tell me) and wish that more people would respond ("How pathetic, Jesus Christ!..").
* * *
What's more daunting is that, despite the online wisdom that seems to appear often enough, I can rarely feel my own success. Doing a new thing seems to give more pleasure than doing better at the old thing, even if the old thing is writing, the craft I've chosen. Often, I prefer not to pursue what I know I'd enjoy - writing, making music, singing, hell, talking to people - because the judgement mechanism of the brain lets itself down for the duration, just like with the bad choices. It's an odd experience - wanting to do something and then being as if flown by a river of thought towards something that gives a spoonful of short-time pleasure in return for the mindless hours: eating chips and drinking overly-sweet juice while watching the seemingly infinite amounts of YouTube videos, sleeping, masturbating...
In this state, it is suprising how much inspiration could one phrase of support give. One sincere sentence - "You can do this" - from an Internet stranger whom I'll probably never meet in reality will do wonders to my motivation, for for once, someone has faith in me when I have none left. It's astonishing just how much can one phrase do, and it makes one wonder why aren't we telling it to others more often. Experience is a powerful factor: if most often we've learned to let ourselves down, it is what many of us are left with - because nobody has time for someone who's not willing to spend their to cura ipsum.
Although I find it well written and thought out, what I find disturbing about the post is that it shows no empathy or consideration of other people. It seems to portray people as mere sources of validation. It might do ThatFanficGuy good to take himself a little less seriously.
Well, it has the two most selfish parts of English language in the title. The point was for me to express what I think about being selfish, and as you may have noticed, all of it comes from experience, mostly personal, some observational. For once, I was able to express myself and my darker side without the anxiety that comes with presenting oneself as not perfect. The way I see it, I allowed myself to care about myself, after years of self-pity, and I'm proud of being able to be so honest and open about this major issue I have. Consider it self-therapy. Oh, certainly. It will take a while, but I believe I'm making progress. One of the steps I have to make was to talk about it honestly; I believe I've missed a few points, but overall, I did what I had - and wanted - to do. This was the most honest about myself I have ever been, because it touches upon the very essense of what makes me a bad person. When you find yourself to be something you loathe, you're going to be very serious about it. It doesn't invalidate your statement, of course, and I understand what you mean. I hope to achieve it as a grow personally by putting others' concerns before my own. I never intended to act in a way that would make it appear true. I did have such an outlook earlier (in fact, this is what made my first girlfriend break up with me), because I do have troubles with empathy. I've started training it, but doing so consciously is a slow and effortful process. Thank you for the honest and constructive review. It is exactly what I could use right now. If you could be so kind, point me towards what made you say the latest quoted sentence.It might do ThatFanficGuy good to take himself a little less seriously.
It seems to portray people as mere sources of validation.
Here is what pointed me to claiming you see people as sources of validation. You never describe people as separate entities, with their own story and qualities, but always in relation to you, to your problems, to how they are judging you, you, you:
my classmate - who was a clever girl, no doubt - rejoiced in making herself look smarter than me in class. other people, too, thought I was smart. their approval and appreciation I cared for far more than those of the adults who did shower me in compliments other than not accepting me into their social circles or even as much as talking to me most of the time, they also thought I was smart a pledge for caring I must be fit to someone's interests and expectations of me to be worthy of their appreciation, let alone love. you have no idea what is expected of you. there's rarely any sensible indication of what you've achieved, as people tend to stay silent about what they feel, no matter how much pain it causes. the rumours she heard about me Because a few persons couldn't hold up to what others truly think of them the world will never bend to one's effortless wishes. a few will have to go through learning about what some people really think of them. I have to make contact with people, reach out to them, which means - risk my ego's integrity. so do consider before you judge the closed one. wish that more people would respond ("How pathetic, Jesus Christ!.."). I can rarely feel my own success. One sincere sentence - "You can do this" - from an Internet stranger whom I'll probably never meet in reality will do wonders to my motivation, for for once, someone has faith in me when I have none left. Again, this obsession with judgement
This is how I learned to accept the company of people I hated - just because they payed attention to meThe way I see it, I allowed myself to care about myself, after years of self-pity.
Self-pity and self-aggrandizement are two sides of the same coins: self-absorption. People with crippling insecurities are just as obsessed with their image and with themselves as people who feel better than everyone else. In fact, both tend seem think that they are special and unique, either in their qualities or in their brokenness. It doesn't seem to me that you've broken out of that cycle of self-absorption.a friend of mine noted that in this battle I became what I fought: a person isolated from others...
despite sounding completely ordinary to many of you reading it
Why do you claim to know how your writing sounds to us readers? Especially since you also mention being unable to relate to others. I quote
I have no idea just how different people might be: not enough data on hands.
Which one are you, a telepath, or an alien?Ever since I realised just how selfish people around me - particularly my parents - are
Who are you referring to, other than your parents? You've mentioned friends and the groups of people you can't seem to fit in. What is selfish about them? Excluding you? Do you feel entitled to being approached spontaneously by people, when you don't approach them spontaneously yourself?I had very few friends, and this fact made me care deeply about each and every one of them.
It seems disturbing to apply the law of supply and demand to personal relationships. Friends are no commodity. Isn't the fact that they are your friends reason enough for you to care about them, regardless of how many they are?When the only person you can talk to daily doesn't understand stories and tales the way you do, you're only left to talk about the superficial - and you do, just to keep their company.
This strikes me as dishonest, desperate and manipulative. What is so valuable about their company that you keep it despite not enjoying it?for the first time in my life, I had control over somebody rather than being controlled.
How have you been controlled? It seems to me that what's mostly controlling you, or rather what you let control you, is people's (perceived) judgment of you. People are not judging you all the time. They have other concerns than you - themselves, for one. The truth is most people you'll meet won't give a shit about you, and will forget all about you as quickly as they noticed you - and coming to terms with this can be incredibly liberating.
Thank you for an insightful review. I must say: you've dissected my words thorougly. I feel like you may be misunderstanding the purpose of this post, because you put much attention on the worse traits that I've described about myself. To show them, to talk about them with honesty was the entire purpose of the post: not to show how good or bad I am, but to show how I am. It has been my problem for years not to be able to talk about what I feel, especially the darker stuff, and as I do, I feel like I'm liberating myself. If it still sounds self-absorbed, it might very well be because it is: I do put much attention to what I feel because this is what this post is all about. It may not be pleasant to hear, but I won't issue an apology for speaking up about my self rather than being bullied by my own mind again. It's a struggle I want to talk about, for it is important. I want to let my thoughts be known, and it matters not if it appears selfish to some: after 20 years of staying silent and serving others I must finally allow myself to be frank - with myself, foremost. If you're not interested in hearing it - by all means, don't give it a read; I just want to put my thoughts into words for it helps with visualising the ideas. Because I've studied human behavior and others' reaction enough to understand what it means to others. I know often enough what's normal to others and what's not to understand where the border lies. Just because I can't speak your language fluently, doesn't mean I can't speak it at all. I don't understand the purpose of this question. I'm referring to the general population I happen to see most of the time. It can be daunting at times to see just how uncaring, entitled and judgemental people can be. It used to have a much bigger influence on me as a child when a concept of free will and personal responsibility were not known to me. I absorbed stuff from around me as if that was what I had to do, as if I'm not supposed to have a personal opinion. I'd like to say that I don't now, but that would be a lie, for the feeling is still lingering despite me knowing full well that that's not how the world works. This is how my anxiety of contacts manifests itself: through wishful thinking. It's not to say it's a good thing, but it's what I have. I realise, too, that I must make an effort myself before asking something of others, but it can be a hard choice to make. Like I said, it's something I'm terrified off, and deep down, I wish everything worked towards me - don't we all? - but I know it won't, and so I'm making one step at the time. It's clear to me that you haven't been lonely often. Not having many friends means that I spend my time absorbed into other, less than healthy behavior because there's no one around to share thoughts and emotions with most of the time. It's not a desired state to be in or a very happy one. As such... ...I became obsessed with having friends. It's how every obsession works: you don't have enough of something for long enough, so you develop a dire craving for it to "save" yourself from the "deficit". It's not a good thing, either, but that's what I had. It's true that friends ought to be cared about regardless of how many of them there are for you, but for me-at-the-time, it looked differently. I've gathered so much craving for friendship that I'd become overly protective and controlling of my friends (which is exactly what happened and it's why I learned my lesson), which for me looked like "more caring than any other person could give". I was... friendshipstruck, if you wish. It was exactly that, for I never wanted to be alone. It terrified me - because, I believe, the thought of not having someone to validate me and my feelings was unbearable, so much I have depended on others' opinion of myself. I was raised by a narcissistic mother and a father - otherwise splendid, hard-working man - who got into my mother's nets shortly before they got married and, with time, succumbed to her nasty behavior. So did I: as a child, you don't have either the will or the knowledge necessary to resist manipulation (especially that from own mother) or sustain oneself: she was a helicopter parent and prevented me from learning how to stand on my feet, figuratively speaking, so that I'd always be under her control. She did the same to my father: he has to work in a mine and has almost no personal finances - my mother took almost everything to herself, sometimes to spend it all to spite us. Sounds like fun, doesn't it? Until I was 18 - a year into university already - I had no idea how to deal with personal responsibility and was desperate when under pressure of the exams and the academic debts that followed soon. If someone was to have such a life by choice, it would sound utterly pathetic. Yet, kids under narcissistic parents don't even get a choice; a few friends of mine had such parents, and from the few glimpses into their private life that I happened to get, it ranged from very bad to fucking horrible. It's a terrible childhood to have, and no person deserves it. Because of it, people grow indifferent to others' feelings, cheerful of others' suffering, manipulative (because in their house there was no other way to gain what you wanted) and utmost unhappy, with the weight on their shoulders that's often too hard to throw off. For some reason, I was lucky enough to grow as a person under the rock, and I can only wish for others in the similar situations to have enough bravery and strength to grow as well.Why do you claim to know how your writing sounds to us readers?
Which one are you, a telepath, or an alien?
Who are you referring to, other than your parents? You've mentioned friends and the groups of people you can't seem to fit in. What is selfish about them? Excluding you?
Do you feel entitled to being approached spontaneously by people, when you don't approach them spontaneously yourself?
It seems disturbing to apply the law of supply and demand to personal relationships. Friends are no commodity.
Isn't the fact that they are your friends reason enough for you to care about them, regardless of how many they are?
This strikes me as dishonest, desperate and manipulative. What is so valuable about their company that you keep it despite not enjoying it?
How have you been controlled?
What I meant was, I find it strangely contradictory that you both claim to have difficulties connecting with others, yet all the while make assumptions about them and what they think of you. It seems to me that you should beware of perpetuating the cycle of abuse started by your mother. I am by no means an expert on the matter, but your thinking strikes me as narcissistic. This might be of interest to you. A last question, would you befriend someone like you? Or, how would you react to meeting someone that deeply reminds you of yourself?Which one are you, a telepath, or an alien?
I don't understand the purpose of this question.
It's clear to me that you haven't been lonely often.
Yet another assumption. You're mistaken.
Then you shouldn't by any means be talking about it when it comes to mental health. People often find themselves important enough to step over the intimate boundries of mental health which is far from the territory the person being told is comfortable with. If you have neither an advice to give or a way to help, you really shouldn't be there. This link of yours... Tuck it deep under a pillow, keep it there and show it only to people you know aren't struggling with their identity and their dark sides. Jesus... Until I realised one very important thing after reading it, I was crushed by the possibility of the fact that all I did was for nothing, because apparently, this shit is just who I am and not the way I think. I have told you how much of this shit I've been through, bringing it upon myself until I knew better, and still, you've decided to throw the hammer at me by showing me an article that basically states "If you have that, you're a narcissist: here's the DSM to prove it". Granted, it was my fault not to look at it with more critique, but god damn it if you have no responsibility at all in this sutiation. The important thing that I realised was - I did love someone, dearly and sincerely, and I will love again, for it's the best I can do. Clearly, it was a mistake to open up to an Internet stranger the way I did. I appreciate all the insightful commentary you did, but this is way over the top, for both sides of this conversation. To answer your last questions: yes, I would. I would show that person that the darkness they feel sometimes is normal, and since we're capable of utilising our free will - and there is free will for us - the best we can do for ourselves is to use it to make good decisions. I would tell that person that they already deserve love and that they deserve loving themselves. The world isn't the enemy; most of the times, we are to ourselves. Accepting that is the first step to making things better; having a person who has come through it as their guide, they're less likely to get lost, and I will do my best to share all of the knowledge that can be of any help so that their path becomes clearer, if just by a bit. I will show them that people, though scary at times, are wonderful once you get to know them, so we have to do our best to overcome the fear and let others beyond our shells. We're not perfect, and we will never be; do your best and accept whatever happens, for it's the best you can do. I will give this person my most love and caring but will not be afraid to be firm when I have to; if I have to kick them off the coach or off the drugs, I will kick them - only to hug them afterwards, let them collect their strength once more and guide them through until they're strong enough to walk on their own again. If this person would have to leave me after they've gathered strength and have found their way, I will let go no matter how hard it may seem - and hope that they won't forget me and the love and care that I've given them. If they're indeed so similar to me, then by the time they're wise and strong enough to follow their own path, they won't: I know myself.I am by no means an expert on the matter
I am not the first person here to suggest you might be a narcissist, and if you're secure in your knowledge of yourself, there's no reason to be appalled by an article about narcissism (not to mention you seem comfortable diagnosing a family member and your friend's family member with the disorder - are you a psychiatrist?).
I'm glad you asked: I've been waiting to put it into words for quite some time now. We're all born selfish - just look at the children. Our ego tells us that we're perfect, impecable, that we can achieve anything and everything. It's grandiose in its views and has a very hard time adjusting itself to reality. Ego tells us that reality doesn't matter: what we think, believe and hope for does, which, as you can see, is clearly false when it comes to predicting anything. We believe that we're going to do magnificently on stage despite it being our first time because our ego tells us that; and, very often, it's enough for us to go for - it certainly was, and still is, for me. What ego forgets to tell us is that we're actually stage-frightened because there are so many people before us, all at once, listening carefully to what we say, and that the experience will be very tough to deal with. Ego omits it to present our mind with a picture where we conquer the world, instead of a far more realistic picture of many bloody battles, in some of which we might very well die without warning, which would be too gruesome for the image of perfection we've spend years building up in our heads. An insult is an attempt at this image's integrity: if we learn that we're imperfect, we will not feel whole again for quite some time - until we manage something that will tell us: "You're good at this!" or "You're great!" - and it isn't a pleasant feeling: as if a part of our soul has been torn away. Most of the times, insults don't exist in reality: rare person will go about their business purposefully infringing upon others' self-image, mostly to empower their own weak image. You probably know those people: they aren't just angry once or twice a month - they're constantly searching for someone to hurt, because the pain they cause makes them feel more powerful. It's a fair mechanic from perspective of filling up one's juices, but in a society-abiding species like ours it doesn't work out great: there are reasons for why metaphorical meanings for "asshole" and "douchebag" exist. Most insults, thus, exist in our heads: as we figure out what others are saying, we reconstruct the meaning through our mind using what we know (which is why we can't speak other languages so easily: we can't comprehend them). If we know (or believe, rather) that others might be insulting us - trying to damage our self-image - then we might very well latch upon the words that provide such a meaning. As we hear "You're not a good plumber", we figure that it doesn't reflect good on our image - it makes us look imperfect, in fact - so we get angry and lash out. The same happens when we hear others talking about us, though this time it's peppered by the fact that they had the sheer audacity of speaking insultive about us without our knowledge or consent. We would all like to be perfect. If reality was no constraint, we would most likely be, without a worry about anything else: why, when we have all we could possibly want? This, again, speaks ill of our ego's rational part, for if we have everything, there's no reason to strive for more; if we're totally satisfied with our lives, there's no reason to get up and do something else. A whole society feeling this way is stagnant and is prone to die out, because there are many more subsystems in our heads that have to work for us to thrive. As we grow older and older, we learn more and more of our limits: that we can't play piano as easily as we can drive a car, that we can't shoot straight without spending hundreds of hours of training which is unfeasable, that even if we can put two words together, we can't for the life of us write a story as good as that of classics. We realise more and more that we're imperfect, and we cope with it by doing more and more of the stuff that we're good at - a good strategy, no doubt. Still, for the clever creatures that we, it may not be the best solution, for we've already been able to come up with something more effective - if only they'd teach that in schools. The best solution, it seems to me, is to accept our imperfection. Most of the people will never think about it because of how we make bad choices, as described in the post. It takes determination in learning about life and oneself to step into such conditions as to break our own bubble. For some, it's simply living long enough: as we live, we encounter enough different people and ideas to shift our perception of the world and others - and, in the end, of ourselves. For some, like myself, it's not enough: we, the inquisitive ones, research human mind consciously in order to understand it, and it more often than not leads to us figuring out the wisdoms some never encounter and some will encounter later in their lives. If we accept our imperfection, insults lose their control over us. We already know that we aren't perfect in quite a few things - what's one more thing? From the perspective of the ego it's very unpleasant, but those who accept their imperfection don't listen to it because it rarely, if ever, says something useful. As we accept our impotence over the most of the world, we project this onto others unconsciously, because if we're not impecable, how can others be? They're humans as much as I am. Those of the simpler traits that I have they have, too. Or, to shorten the long story, - we choose to be hurt because we never consider the possibility of ourselves and our egos being not as important as we're led by it to believe from the childhood where everything seemed under our control and a result of our actions. Inexperience is not the same as ignorance, for it can be easily disspelled by new knowledge.