You. You’re the One.

In 1979, McDonald’s had a commercial jingle that went, in part, “You.  You’re the one.  You are the only reason….”

It took me a minute this morning to figure out why that particular ditty was going through my head.  Okay.  I will be honest.  I was singing it out loud, but only after my girl’s had exited the Jeep.   As we were approaching car line to drop them off at school, Chloe was frustrated because there was a knot in her laces that she could not get out.  I assured her not to worry that I could drop off Ivy, do another loop in the parking lot, help her out, and then drop her off.

“People will see us do that,” she claimed, obviously worried at the very thought of it.  So, I let Ivy take over the steering wheel for the last hundred yards as I took Chloe’s shoe, got the knot out, and returned it, before anyone could see.  She was relieved.  I pulled away and started singing that song from 40+ years ago.

After a rousing edition with nobody to hear, I started to connect the dots.  I didn’t have time to explain while she was getting anxious and time was running out, so I just went for the easiest solution.  But what I wanted to say to her would have been something like, “Chloe, do you know who would have noticed us taking an additional loop?  You.  If for some reason, a dozen people noticed, do you know who would have cared?  You.  You’re the one.  You are the only one.”

Each of us are the center of our own world.  We have the lead role in this play of life that we are all in.  It makes us forget that the same is true for everyone else.  The evaluation of self is so vast and complex that we could spend weeks discussing the ramifications of the Id, the Ego, and the Super Ego.  For today, let’s keep it simpler than all of that. 

Care.  With the possible exceptions of Mom and a truly amazing mate, there are few, if any, on the entire planet who cares about you as much as you do.  You brush your teeth.  You consume food.  You find shelter.  You clothe yourself.  You inhale and exhale.  You might even work out and try to maintain a nutritious diet.  All of these things properly address your welfare, oversight, and protection.  But at some point, the definition of care changed. 

Hard.  You are also the one who is hardest on yourself.  Care started to be about caring what people think about us.  Care became anxiety, concern, solicitude, and worry.  Why did the woman in the supermarket look at me that way?  I made a mistake at work, and I am mortified.  I was late to work, and it was humiliating, and I know everyone is talking about it.   To be fair, if you are chronically late and an underperformer, then, yes, everyone is talking about it.   But most people who fall in that category don’t care and are not reading this (too much work).  We all know the person who is late less than once a year, nobody noticed, but they are still hard on themselves.  Some of you just looked in the mirror.  But there is some good news.  There is one more key area, that is you.  You’re the one. 

Change.  You can change.  You are the only one who can change you.  You can’t change others.  You only have a small part in their play.  I propose that we focus each day on bringing care back to what it is supposed to be.  Let’s nurture ourselves, not worry ourselves.  Let’s build ourselves up, not tear ourselves down.  Whatever that woman was thinking in the supermarket, that’s her stuff to resolve.  Let’s work out our self-awareness and provide nutrition to our self-esteem.  I only have a tiny part in your play.  I don’t even have a speaking role.  But I am looking up to you.  And I am rooting for you to win the Oscars.

As for Chloe, she is in Middle School.  That’s a tough phase.  I don’t judge her for not wanting to take the loop.  I would have done the same thing.  That is why I abided her wish.  But I hope to teach her, as she grows, that she, she’s the one.  She is the only reason.

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