I ended last week’s column with an image of a man limping through life with a broken leg. I made the comment that this image captures the problem with our cultural dictum: “Believe in yourself.” The meaning behind my comment is twofold. First, people generally suffer from self-doubt, a certain awareness that all is not well within one’s self, or from an inability to feel affirmed, confident and whole. Second, the solution to this problem cannot be believing in one’s self because the problem lies primarily within the self. Thus, the image of a man who thinks he can mend his leg by walking on it.
I imagine that most rational people would tell our friend with the broken leg to stop walking because his leg was in fact broken and he needed treatment. This would appear to be a sane and logical response. But why do we treat the ego differently? Yes, the ego is not a body part which can snap like a bone or tear like a muscle, but I argue that we can indeed say that our egos are broken and need serious help.
When do we notice our thumb, stomach or nose? Every day? Every moment? Never? I would argue we notice them when they draw attention to them via pain, indigestion or an itch. In other words, we take notice of our body parts when they malfunction. If they are operating properly, we give them no attention. Our bodies work properly when all of the parts of our organism work in unison together as we move and act throughout the day. They leave us free to not be constantly focused on their operation and functioning. A car breaks down when one of its parts — tires, engine, transmission — ceases to function. I see our bodies in a similar light.
If it is true that we notice our bodies when they are malfunctioning, then it is plain that our egos are not functioning well. We are constantly aware of ourselves. The purpose of the ego, though, is similar to the thumb or stomach — it should make a person whole, unified and free him from giving himself or herself incessant attention. Yet, we are always conscious of how we are being treated, how we look, how we measure up to others, what we lack in our lives, how miserable or how good we are, what impression we are making, who we are not and who we want to be, how empty we are and how we feel right now. It seems as if the ego has dislodged itself from its intended position in the person and wanders about in search for something that will heal it and give it attention.
Thus, I think we can conclude that the ego is, for some strange reason, not functioning the way it ought to be.
To return to our friend with the broken leg: We have said that he cannot heal himself by limping. Why do we think we can heal our egos from the inside? Broken legs need external treatment. Yet, our culture posits that believing in yourself — the ego’s attempt at self-help — is rational. We move about in our lives with wounded, desperate and restless egos that bring attention to their misery in almost every area of life, just as our friend drags his broken leg wherever he goes. If our friend needs a doctor, how can we say that we do not? For we suffer from an even more severe injury that plagues us even when our bodies are completely healthy: a dissatisfied and wandering ego.
The question is not whether we need existential healing, but what or who will mend our broken sense of self?
Scott Stinson is a UF English sophomore. His column appears on Wednesdays.