reply to post by XxNightAngelusxX
Two things come to mind for me - well, one was an almost sacrifice. Both were rewarding in my own eyes.
1. I sacrificed my happiness for about a year for an ex. At the time, we were together, but the start of that year was painful - she was not in a good
spot, there were rumors that her dad had cheated on her mom multiple times, and several family upsets. I probably should have broken it off then, but
something stayed my hand. When someone's in that fragile of a mind, I can't part off with them - So I waited till things were looking better (her
friend got divorced from a, well jerk of a guy that made me look like an angel; her parents finally split and her mom was in a position to support
her). I found out later that she sort-of knew what I was doing, but didn't want to push the issue. Instead, she gave me my space, and consciously
started hanging out with her friends more towards the end, so it was an almost painless transition from being in a relationship to single again.
Why this was important to me: I learned a lot about myself while pretending to be happy - sometimes, you need to have a really bad experience in order
to know how long you can last. If I can survive a year with a pain in my side, think of how easy it'll be for me to survive the zombie apocalypse
2. I almost sacrificed several fingers to help a stranger out. The brief summary on this one is I was out walking on a cold night like tonight, in a
hoodie and some not-so-insulating gloves (I believe they are called hunter's gloves; yarn gloves with a mitten overlay). It was about 2am in the
morning, and I was out because snow had just fallen, and no-one was out (when I like my walks). I ran into a guy who's bag had ripped among several,
and he looked in so much pain it made me forget my own numb hands.
Long story short, I picked up the bags, and had him tell me where he lived (it was about another mile away, in an apartment complex where I was told
to never be in after dark...oops). By the time I got there, I was practically carrying him (he was low on blood sugar?) and the bags. I stayed at the
apartment just long enough to make sure he wouldn't die upon getting in. And ran back home.
My poor fingers - pinkies were starting to turn blue, and the others were so cold they chilled the air as soon as I walked in the door. Another couple
minutes, and I'd be in the hospital - think crunching my fingers in the screen door hurt less than bringing the fingers back from the dead.
Here's the selfless part - I found out while walking him back that he didn't have a car, all the groceries he was carrying was all he could afford
for the next couple weeks, and may have been into drugs, and admitted to at least some jail time. Didn't care - he was getting home alive under my
watch, or we'd both be dead. Looking back, I can say I was pretty stupid; dangerous neighborhood, helping a felon, no-one out that late. But when
someone is howling in pain because he had to walk miles in the cold weather, and looks like he's about dead and mumbling (learned in boy scouts that
if you are not able to pronounce words, you need to get inside asap, because once the cold is on your mind, your willpower to get to your destination
is shot), I'm willing to help. I'd do it all again, if it ever comes to that.
PS: Whew, didn't think that was going to be a long post. Sorry for the long read, guys & gals; guess I over-thought the question.