Be stingy with your time and spend it in spaces that fill you up.
— Janet Mock
I’ve been contemplating the intersection between individualism and collectivism, between focusing on the self and caring for others.
I know these two concepts interconnect. Yet, I often struggle to find a balance between caring for myself to contribute to a collective and feeling guilty because I’m not doing “enough” for others.
At times, it feels like a war. I’m torn between what seems like life-or-death decisions, unable to discern which path matters more.
I deeply desire to be part of a collective and positively contribute to this complex narrative called life. But there are legitimate limitations to what that looks like. Yes, we all have varying depths of capacity; I acknowledge that. But on a basic human level, shouldn’t there be a point that becomes the maximum?
Even trying to process these thoughts is difficult because part of me insists that limiting how much we contribute to the collective is unacceptable. We should always give more than the max.
This belief—that we should always exceed our maximum—stems from a deeply ingrained feeling that what I have to give isn’t enough. That I need to strive to give more, and then push beyond even that. It comes from powerful feelings of guilt, where comparison acts as both thief and negotiator.
There are two opposite ends of this chokehold, and I don’t know which one to embrace, so I don’t. I just sway somewhere in the middle, overcorrecting when I lean too far to either side. The thing is, this perpetual swaying is its own kind of dilemma—not a solution but another form of the original problem.
Could it be that the most profound contribution we make isn’t measured by how much we give or take, but by how honestly we navigate the space between—honouring both our limitations and our longing to connect? Recognising that this very struggle might be what makes us most human after all?
