“She’s so self-absorbed.”
“He’s so full of himself.”
“They think the world revolves around them.”
Gawd, I feared ever being taken for any of the above!
For how long have we been taught that these are insults? That to turn inward, to center the Self, is a shameful act? That to focus on our own essence is somehow a moral failing?
I know, I know, there's such a thing as being too much of anything, but park your resistance and just play along for a beat.
We have been conditioned—subtly and overtly—to measure our worth by external gauges. To dull the edges of our spirit, quiet the awkward or unruly parts, and contort ourselves into digestible shapes that make others feel comfortable. We have learned to project our discomfort with our own neglected Self onto others, scoffing at their confidence, their wholeness, their audacity to take up space.
All of it—the judgment, the shame, the policing of selfhood—rests on the weight of labels. Self-centered. Self-absorbed. Full of oneself. Who decided these were dirty words? Who assigned them their charge?
Because the truth is, words are fluid things. They are tools, vessels of meaning that shift with time and intention.
The value of a label is ours to assign.
To name something is to claim it. To speak it aloud is to acknowledge its truth, to give it shape in the world. A person who says, I am woman. I am gay. I am non-conforming. I am neurodivergent. I am sociopathic. I am magic. I am alien.—that is a declaration of Self. A planting of the flag. A refusal to be erased or mislabeled by others.
The power of words, then, is not in the labels themselves, but in how we wield them. In whether they serve as shackles or keys.
And so, I choose to take back mine.
I am in hot pursuit of my Self, and that requires a deep and fearless excavation of all the layers I’ve accumulated—the protections, the performances, the reflexes that once kept me safe but now keep me small.
I want to be Self-Absorbed in the best possible way: wholly immersed in the work of knowing and becoming.
I want to be Full of Myself—brimming with my own essence, unashamed of my fullness.
And yes, I want to be Self-Centered—so deeply rooted in my own truth that I no longer sway in the winds of external validation.
This is not selfishness. This is the work of reclamation.
The world does not need more fragmented people, distanced from themselves and looking outward for direction. The world needs more whole, centered, integrated beings—people who know who they are and move from that place of grounded selfhood.
I have a goal in life: to be my most Self-Centered. And I will not apologize for it.
Think out loud with me: What labels have I been given—by others or by society—that I’ve accepted without question?
Do they confine me, or do they set me free?
And if the value of a label is mine to assign… what meaning do I choose to give them?
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In praise of being self-centered
In praise of being self-centered, written 3/12/25 at Lima Coffee Roasters, Old Town Ft Collins
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