Are You Important?

An essay about self-worth

We were sitting around the breakfast table, the six of us, just as we do every morning. The conversation took a quiet and thoughtful turn when someone asked, Are you important?

There was a long pause. Then, one by one, almost all of us said, No, I'm not important. I was one of those voices. I said it, too.

But then one of the women at the table, whose name begins with the letter S, turned to me and asked, Allan, what about your late wife Pat? You were important to her, weren't you?

I stopped. I paused. And then I said, Yes, you’re right. I was important to her. And I’m important to my daughters, too.

The conversation shifted after that. One by one, the others at the table began to name the people to whom they are important. A child. A friend. A grandchild. A spouse. A neighbor. Slowly, we began to see ourselves a little more clearly. And then someone pointed out something we had all overlooked. We are important to each other.

That truth settled over the table like a soft blanket. One of our group is moving soon to Assisted Living. She needs a higher level of care than Independent Living can offer. We all understand why it has to happen. We know it's the right thing for her safety and well-being. But that doesn't stop the sadness. We are going to miss her. She is important to each of us. And we are important to her.

So why is it so hard to believe that we matter?

I can think of some reasons. None of us sitting around that table is rich. We are not heads of major companies. We are not doctors or governors or people whose names appear in newspapers. We are just ordinary people in our later years, somewhere between our sixties and late eighties. But that doesn't mean we are not important.

Sometimes, we confuse being important with being famous or powerful. We forget that being important can mean something much quieter. It can mean being needed. Being loved. Being remembered. Being part of someone’s daily life. Being missed.

I know that for many years, maybe for most of my life, I struggled with low self-worth. I never believed I mattered very much. Back when I was growing up, people called that an inferiority complex. That’s exactly what I had. I believed I was less than everyone else. I carried that belief with me for a long time.

Why do some of us feel that way? The answer is different for each person. We come from different families, with different stories. Some of us were made to feel small. Some of us were not seen or listened to. Some of us were always compared to others. And little by little, we began to believe we didn’t count.

But we do count. We count in ways that may not make headlines but make all the difference to the people who know us and love us. Our importance is found in the care we give, the kindness we offer, the memories we carry, and the love we share.

As I look around the breakfast table, I see six people who matter. To each other. To their families. To the world in quiet ways.

Mindful meditations teach us about opening our hearts to “loving kindness.” It’s a concept that stresses the importance of opening our hearts to other people, especially those who are suffering. In addition, it teaches us to open our hearts to ourselves. Each of us deserves to value ourselves.

And maybe that is what real importance is.