Kreia Would be Proud

 

"And what is it you think you have accomplished? If you seek to aid everyone that suffers in the galaxy, you will only weaken yourself … and weaken them. It is the internal struggles, when fought and won on their own, that yield the strongest rewards. You stole that struggle from them, cheapened it. If you care for others, then dispense with pity and sacrifice and recognize the value in letting them fight their own battles. And when they triumph, they will be even stronger for the victory."

―Kreia

I’ve said before that I often find myself overinvested in a lot of my friendships.  As a result I often want more from my friends than they are willing to give.  This repetition has led to common arguments amongst my friends, and the continued practice has led me to become quite convincing (or so I would like to think).  However, 5% of the time I find myself on the opposite side of the fence—as the one underinvested.  I’m honestly not exactly sure what to make of these situations.

First of all I try to learn by observing my own emotions when in that state.  I turn my thoughts inward as I listen and hear the words being spoken to me, and listen to my internal voice.  The first overwhelming response that I feel is pity.  Pity, for knowing the situation that they are in, for understanding completely the amount of strain and ache that they are going through.  However this is a response due to my personal experiences, and isn’t likely to come from many of my friends, especially those who claim that they “have never had a friend like me”.

As I peel away the emotion of pity I become angered.  I feel like I’m wasting my time, and that this individual talking to me is not worthy of it.  I feel like I should be rude, should kick him out, should close this avenue of communication for good—however I do not act.  I can feel something deeper holding me back and begin to feel exposed.  I recognize this reaction for the defense mechanism that it is and tear it down.  I immediately uncover another layer of pity and these two recursive emotions repeat themselves for several cycles.  Usually the conversation ends before I can get to the center of this emotional Tootsie-pop.

It becomes a curiosity that I must satisfy, so I let the conversation return to me.  However no matter how many times I do, I cannot fulfill my curiosity.  So I attempt another approach.  I listen to my speaker more intently, and observe my emotional reactions to his words—not my undertones that run the conversation.  I realize that some of his words come across as pleas while others come across confused—as if his mouth is at the control of another being.  I recognize that he doesn’t understand what he wants, or why he is here, because he is not being honest with himself—not me.

And I begin to doubt myself.  I begin to wonder who I am to judge, who I am to refuse help.  I begin to feel gratitude towards my friend for investing in me and return the investment.  My friend finds himself satisfied, happy to see the return, and begins to expect future returns and so continues his conversation in full.

And I realize how ghastly of a mistake I have made.  I have donated (rather than invested) my time and effort.  Doing so, I have performed an action worse than indifference.  I have made my friend weaker.  They say that if you feed a man a fish he’s full for a day, but if you teach a man to fish he’s full for life.  However, if you feed a man a fish for long enough that it becomes expected, and then stop...

I cannot apologize to my friend for my action.  However I know that I am just as bad as a loan shark—fulfilling a need now by creating a greater one later.  The action, though sadistic if performed purposefully, does have its uses.  It provides me with the opportunity to grow and develop myself, at the cost of another’s psyche.  Is it wrong of me to have performed such an act?  I felt compelled to do so—out of my friend’s interests, even though I knew it was wrong.  Is it better to satisfy man’s immediate needs if they destroy his potential?