But, Like, Why Not Me?

“Why me?” can be a dangerous question that fosters self-loathing and, IMO, a victim mentality. It asserts that things just “happen” to you. That you have no control over your life or certain circumstances. That the world will continue to fling shit your way and the best you can do is duck if you’re lucky enough to see it coming.

It can also be a nonsensical question, as there is no answer. Or, at least, there oftentimes isn’t. I mean, if you ride your motorcycle blindfolded and wind up in a full-body cast because you slammed into a tree, then the “why me?” is pretty obvious.

It’s less so when your father gets diagnosed with a terminal illness, your mom leans on unhealthy lifestyle habits to cope, your genes dictate that you have a good shot at developing cancer over your lifetime and your doctor says fertility treatments are the only viable path toward a baby.

You can “why me?” ‘til the cows come home, but even if you send those bovines on an Amazing Race-style quest around the world, you won’t have an answer by the time they come knocking with sombreros in tow.

The reverse is true, too.

Why not me?