Tea Time with my Ego

When we hear the word ego, we often think of something negative—something we should silence or overcome.
But the ego, in its balanced form, is not our enemy.
It protects us. It helps us survive.
It gives shape to our identity, confidence, and uniqueness.
Still, when ego takes the lead without awareness, it can cloud our inner light.
It pulls us away from who we truly are.
You may have heard that ego is the voice inside that says “I”
But how often do we pause to ask: Which “I” is speaking?
The true self—or the one shaped by fear, comparison, or control?

Lately, I’ve taken time to sit with my ego.
Not to silence her, but to listen—with softness and curiosity.
And in that quiet space, I realized—she had always been with me, just waiting to be understood.

Here’s a glimpse into our tea time with my ego...

We had tea together today—me and my ego.

The doorbell rang.
I invited her in with an open heart and a calm presence.
I simply wanted to understand how she was doing.
We sat next to the window.
The sun was streaming in,
Touching our skin with its softness and warmth.
Shadows of shaking tree branches were dancing on the wall.
I preferred rose tea; she wanted lavender.
We took a couple of sips and looked gently into each other’s eyes.
I asked her, “How are you? Tell me about yourself.”

She began to tell her story:

"I am okay, doing my best.
But the past was hard.
I’ve had so much on my shoulders, and I didn’t know how to handle it.
I suffered deeply, and I didn’t know how to survive.
I thought I had to be perfect to be loved, to be accepted.
I was afraid of being alone.
I couldn’t find peace within myself—I didn’t know what to do.
Sometimes, I was angry, asking: Why is this so hard?
I didn’t know how to open my heart without fear.
The world felt too dangerous.
I was fragile.
An unpredictable world made me want to control everything—but it never worked.
I believed I had to fight, fix, plan, and solve everything just to stay afloat.
I thought I had to be this or that—be strong, be good, be something—to be accepted.
I thought hiding parts of myself would protect me.
I couldn’t accept all the pieces in me—I couldn’t even see them clearly.
I kept wondering why they didn’t understand me—while assuming I understood them.
Maybe I couldn’t see clearly. Maybe I couldn’t hear, either.
Maybe I couldn’t listen with an open heart; there was so much pain, I couldn’t handle it.
I was trying to help—I thought I knew the way for others. But I couldn’t even find the way for myself.
Showing love and compassion felt unsafe—people might think I’m weak or might hurt me.
Even accepting love... I didn’t really know how.
But really, I was just trying to protect myself, to be loved... and it didn’t work.
I just wanted to feel alive, but I felt stuck.
Maybe I didn’t feel enough—just as I was.”

She took a small sip of her tea.
A few tears welled up in her eyes.
“Sometimes I’m suffering. It feels like I’ve lost my way.”
I looked at her gently and said:

“Why don’t you ask the heart? Maybe she knows the way.
Maybe… you can have another cup of tea with her sometime. 😉”