The eighth deadly sin (and the fourth)

Wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony. Yes, there are only seven. I knew that.

But the one that has lately undone me, or nearly undid me, is one that's not listed, unless you consider it under Pride. I'm not sure I would. Pride and it's simpering half-sister Vanity, are not quite the same thing.

I've been thinking a lot about this lately. It has suddenly occurred to me that most of the difficulties I've had over the last five years really come down to one moment when I gave in to vanity. I've never denied I have pride issues. I'm stubborn. I am. I do not like being told what to do and I don't like having my weaknesses pointed out to me. I fight the temptation to think I'm better educated than some, or more experienced, sympathetic, enlightened than some. This is pride. But it isn't the same as Vanity at all, is it?

According to Arthur Schopenhauer, "…pride is an established conviction of one's own paramount worth in some particular respect; while vanity is the desire of rousing such a conviction in others, and it is generally accompanied by the secret hope of ultimately coming to the same conviction oneself. Pride works from within; it is the direct appreciation of oneself. Vanity is the desire to arrive at this appreciation indirectly, from without."

Ezra Taft Benson said that "the central feature of pride is enmity–enmity toward God and enmity toward our fellowmen. Enmity means 'hatred toward, hostility to, or a state of opposition.' … It says, 'If you succeed, I am a failure.'" He also said, "The proud (vain) make every man their adversary by pitting their intellects, opinions, works, wealth, talents, rany other worldy measuring device against others."

Look again at those deadly sins. Who in this world considers them so, today? It's no wonder people are so empty they must contend one with another. I truly feel sorry for people who are so insecure that they must constantly beat others down. It saddens me, because I can relate to those feelings of insecurity.

So, what's my story? I'm not really sure how to tell it, or if I should.

I had a friend. Just a friend. But…I thought a bit more of him than I should. For some reason, as time went on, it became increasingly important that I know that he returned my regard. Because the alternative was that I was being used. Was I? I still don't really know. I'd like to believe I knew him well enough to say that that wasn't really in his nature. But I don't know. We were friends. There wasn't any more to it. He meant a lot to me and I wanted to mean a lot to him. It was vanity. Pure and simple.

About this same time, I reached out to a new editor, who, as it turned out, didn't like much of what I did. Not my style, or the plot, or the characters, or the dialogue, or the genre…or really anything. That edit really hurt, because I thought I had this great talent and as it turned out, I really didn't know what I was doing at all.

Then I joined Authonomy, where I posted my work (stupidly or bravely, I still don't know) and found that it wasn't really as bad as I had begun to think. Yet it still received a lot of harsh criticism, as it rightly deserved. I learned a lot there, and I attribute what I am now largely to the education I received there.

While on Authonomy, I came across some mind-blowingly talented authors. I loved their work, I thought they were interesting people, with whom I had a few things in common. And so I got to be friends with them. But that pattern I'd begun with the first friend, manifested itself here in exaggerated form. I loved these authors. I loved their work. And I wanted to be equally admired. If they thought I was great. Well, then, I must be great. But two things happened to make me question that philosophy. Their good opinions became less valuable as I sought for further affirmation. And these friends, though they liked me as a person, took no interest in my work. I'm an honest person and fair, and I understand that just because I like someone's work, it didn't mean they would necessarily like mine. It just doesn't work that way. What I hadn't anticipated was being led on to believe that if I knocked myself out, put everything I had into it, then at some point they would give me a shot with their opinion. So I did the work. I did. I sweated, I bled, I wrote until I had bloody stumps for fingers. And then…

I wasn't good enough, they were too busy, had more important things to do. And I was…dispensable. I gave so much, time, energy, I edited full MSS on last minute bases and I was happy to do it, honoured, even. And now…they can't even be my friend? They can't talk to me without trashing me, can't write blog posts without degrading me as a writer, or my expertise as less than par beside them. But it's my fault. I don't blame them.  I tainted it all with my vanity. I asked for too much. It wasn't their responsibility to assign value to me as a person or as a writer. That's too much to ask anyone to do.

The hardest part, really, is that all the friends I've ever made I still have. Except for the friends I made when I was going through my vain and fatally insecure phase. I made a lot of mistakes during that time. I nearly ended my marriage. I nearly lost everything, all I have worked so hard for, all I stand for and believe in. Because I wanted to be valued above that which I had deemed myself, and I put it in someone else's hands to determine.

So I've lately repented. At least I'm working on it. I don't think it's a simple thing to forsake, that vanity. But at least I've learned from it. And, necessarily, my present day successes are attributable to my own confidence, hard work, and the assistance of some very good, talented and ever loyal friends, whose talents they are not afraid to share, and who do not begrudge my success.

And also God. I can't forget him. And I won't.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Catholic Church divides sin into two categories: venial sins, in which guilt is relatively minor, and the more severe mortal sins. Theologically, a mortal sin is believed to destroy the life of grace within the person and thus creates the threat of eternal damnation. "Mortal sin, by attacking the vital principle within us – that is, charity – necessitates a new initiative of God's mercy and a conversion of heart which is normally accomplished [for Catholics] within the setting of the sacrament of reconciliation."[1]

The Deadly Sins do not belong to an additional category of sin. Rather, they are the sins that are seen as the origin ("capital" comes from the Latin caput, head) of the other sins. A "deadly sin" can be either venial or mortal, depending on the situation; but "they are called 'capital' because they engender other sins, other vices."[2]