The Most Selfish People in the World Are the Ones Who Don’t Choose Themselves

The most selfish people in the world are the ones who don’t choose themselves. You’re probably thinking… you’ve GOT to be kidding me, right? 

No, I’m not. It took me years to learn and integrate this lesson, but here’s the story:

When my parents divorced, a part of my mom was trying to choose herself. Clearly something in the marriage wasn’t working and she imploded it.

But her entire identity was wrapped up in what others thought of her. So she married a new man she didn’t love—and was eaten alive by guilt and shame. She regretted divorcing my dad, the impact on the kids, all of it.

So she kept disassociating. And her doctor just kept the pills coming. Until she was swallowed by so much guilt and shame that she took so many pills she ended up in the ER. A couple of times were intentional. Some of the overdoses were because she was so fucked up she didn’t realize she was taking more.

From the time I was 8 to 18, she overdosed at least once a year. In those years, my mom’s house often didn’t have anything but processed food—if we regularly had food at all.

One of my earliest memories of my sister and me choosing ourselves was watching Rachael Ray and wanting to eat better. Wanting anything that was homemade. So we learned to cook at 10 and 14. 

We’d get the freshest food we could when we had food stamps, or when there was money. We’d write down recipes and go to the grocery store.

I remember making parmesan pork chops, meatloaf, fettuccine alfredo… Most of the things I made then aren’t what I’d consider healthy now.

But tears stream down my face as I write this because I was trying my best. And this was during the years I was suicidal. A part of me wanted to end it all. Another part of me was doing the smallest things to choose herself.

At 14, I moved in with my dad and stepmom. The second time I chose myself. Probably the biggest choice—because I was terrified my mom would die without me. My sister and brother had both grown up and moved out.

My dad and stepmom were very religious at that time. The complete opposite polarity of my mom’s house. It was physically safe. Food was provided. There was love. I was a kid when I was there—not someone trying to survive and keep my mom alive. There was also authoritarian parenting, control over everything, and an environment that promoted perfectionism and shame.

But after living through peak chaos—food scarcity, drugs, violence, and neglect—all the rules were worth the safety my dad’s home provided. (See my blog article on Why People Go From New Aged to Saved.)

At 16, I cut my mom off for ten months. I felt like the coldest person in the world. I ignored her calls. I didn’t speak to her when she came to watch me cheer. And in truth, it was a harsh reaction—but I’d spent eight years constantly wondering if she’d live through the day. A shield of ice was needed for me to have boundaries. It was time for me to choose myself.

By the time I was 18, my mom had significantly cut back on pills. She began working again and hasn’t overdosed since. (Thirteen years.) A few years ago, she began therapy.

When I chose myself… she felt it. She realized that if she didn’t truly choose herself, her self-sabotage would eat her alive.

I remember thinking my mom was the most selfish person in the world. 

Why wouldn’t she just get sober for me? She couldn’t do it for anyone else. Until no one was left to save her, she realized she had to get better for herself.

The point is: when you choose yourself, everyone you’re sacrificing for will either choose themselves—or they won’t. 

Most of the time, they will choose themselves. Because no one is there to leech off anymore.

If I hadn’t radically chosen myself, I don’t know if I would’ve survived high school. I’d been suicidal on and off from 10 to 13. I was extremely underweight and malnourished. My mom wouldn’t have chosen to get better.

My soul incarnated to have an extreme childhood to learn an immense amount of soul lessons at an early age. I didn’t permanently shift this pattern until years later—it just became less dramatic.

At 20, I realized I’d become a perfectionist, trying to be the perfect child for my dad. I had a kundalini awakening on a mission trip to Haiti that permanently changed my relationship to spirituality. In that moment, it felt like every cell in my body was breathing light. Subsequently, I left Bible college and chose to pursue my own life. Once again, choosing myself. Once again, learning that my role isn’t to self-sacrifice.

In my mid-twenties, I was entirely absorbed in co-dependency with my (now) husband Eric. It took intentionally going on a celibacy journey and learning to LOVE spending time with myself, while in relationship, to shift this.

It’s wild to look back and see how choosing myself—even when it looked cold, harsh, or impossible—became the seed of every version of me that followed. Healing wasn’t about fixing the broken parts; it was about remembering that I was never broken to begin with.

I chose to forgive my mom. More importantly, I realized my soul chose to mother hers. That part of my journey is to elevate and support hers. I realized that when we choose ourselves first, everyone around us thrives.

I spent my early and mid-twenties healing from trauma. I experimented with substances, healers, and therapists. Some helped, some hurt. It all became a potent foundation for self-healing.

A huge part of my healing journey shifted when I stopped chasing what to heal and began to choose to live my bliss and my joy. 

When I began to choose my pleasure, I set different boundaries. And wouldn’t you know—the healing naturally happened.

I stopped trying to fix myself. I do shadow work when it arises (and still do), but I stopped digging for what needed to be “healed.” I realized: I’m already whole. I get to change whatever I desire, as I desire, to live how I want.

I chose who I desired to be—the identity of who I wanted to become.

And I wouldn’t change a single thing about my childhood, because it gave me a depth of understanding few ever touch. 

I understand energy, patterns, and the human psyche on a level that lets me meet someone’s inner demons with compassion, not fear.

I can hold a frequency of CHOOSING YOURSELF from the most extreme situations imaginable. 

Trust me—if I could do it in those moments, you can do it now.

My capacity to hold space for others was born from holding space for myself first. My cup runs over because I fill it daily.

From that overflow, I serve.

This is what choosing yourself truly means: it’s not selfish—it’s sacred. It’s how the world heals.

Because when you choose yourself, you become the living proof that everyone else can too.