Why my ego became my best friend

Today I can say that I am deeply in love with my ego.

And no, not from an ego place. From a place of love.

What we call ego is a part of me, just like all the others. And for that reason alone, it deserves a place.

I think life, and surviving childhood, with everything that comes with it, taught me that the ego had to become the captain of the ship. Not because my childhood was particularly bad, but because, like all childhoods, it had its own challenges, its own questions, its own lessons.

And the ego did what it was created to do: protect.

It was the one who went ahead. It safeguarded. It made sure I stayed here. And it did its job very well.

But being the ego, and its main function being survival, it is not exactly concerned with whether a person actually lives and enjoys life. It is concerned with making sure they stay alive.

Because of that, it doesn’t like change very much. It prefers everything to stay exactly the same. Because what is the same is what it already knows. And what it already knows, it knows works, because so far, it has worked.

Even though life is not really like that.

In truth, stagnation is sometimes a form of death. But the ego doesn’t have that awareness. And it doesn’t need to. That’s not its role.

The biggest shift for me was placing it where it belongs.

Giving it, perhaps, the role of co-pilot in the ship.

But not the role of captain.

And interestingly, I think it actually loves that place. Because that is its place.

There, it can rest. It doesn’t have to be constantly alert. The interpretation system doesn’t need to be running all the time. I don’t have to constantly understand everything, control everything, anticipate everything, do everything alone.

I don’t have to.

And so all of me (including the ego) loves that.

Because finally, as a whole, I can take the helm of the ship. I can hold the wheel. I can set the direction.

See life.

Live life.

And not just survive life.

But that is only possible because the ego is still there.

Because while we are human and here in this dimension, it is impossible not to have an ego.

In truth, there are only two ways for that to happen: death (and then the ego dies too) or a mental illness so deep that it creates such dissociation that the person fragments. But even then, it is not only the ego that disappears; the whole self fragments.

Because it is impossible to be human without an ego.

The ego is what stops me from throwing myself off the edge of contradiction. It is what ensures my continuity. My staying here.

So how could I not love this?

How could I not love a part of me that was created solely and entirely to protect me?

A part whose function is to ensure that I stay here to fulfill what my soul came here to do.

Because yes, I believe my soul chose to come to Earth.

Chose to be a person.

Chose to be this particular person.

And chose to have things to do.

Otherwise, it wouldn’t have come.

And the ego ensures exactly that: that it stays here doing those things and doesn’t go back home too early.

Because I imagine home is good.

Very good, even.

So I deeply love my ego.

Not from an ego place.

But from a place of true love.

A love that recognizes its role, its work, and its importance.

And that, precisely because it recognizes all of that, can place it in its right position.

Beside me.

Not in front.

While I take the helm of the ship.

And go live.