Helping

It’s been a long week at work. I’ve had kids in crisis, many meetings, and seniors not graduating. I’m trying to pull off some major projects with only 35 days left in the year. I spent a late night at school and drove about 3 hours today to various meetings and appointments. And I didn’t even get a workout in today. 

Unless you count painting. Which I would (my Fitbit disagrees). 

The last couple days I’ve been trying to help people: I helped my sister on Sunday, I was a big sister on Tuesday, and today I helped my neighbor paint. Helping is fun, helping feels good. I remember when I was in the thick of divorce my counselor told me to help people in a way that I would get nothing in return. Studies are showing that by thinking extrinsically we are boosting mood (or something like that). 

And helping has boosted my mood. I’m building better relationships with people around me, I’m learning to listen, and I’m working on not complaining about things I have to do (ugh, I have to help my coworker, why did I say yes? I just want to go home.) I feel like I’m trying to pass along my good karma that I received when I had to move and needed a shoulder to cry on. 

Part of me also feels like by helping I’m avoiding my own life. Am I helping to be helpful and feel good or does it give me a good excuse to avoid emails? Or dating websites? Am I masking the inevitable dive into adulthood with working to benefit others? Plus, I’m tired now. Am I really taking care of myself by taking care of others?

I don’t know the answer, but I do know something powerful. 

This week I saw my coworker show up to work with her arm in a cast, after a surgery she had the week before. She lives alone, her husband died a year ago from diabetes complications. Prior she had spent a number of years taking care of him- he had both his legs amputated. He had a habit of buying a lot of things (I think for childhood reasons I don’t want to get into now), and so my coworker has been living in a 4 bedroom home alone with his stuff piled up. This house sits on 6 acres of land. I have no cellphone service in the house. It’s remote. 

When my coworker’s son was 19, he passed away in a car accident. He was a neat kid that got yelled at once for not coming home on time (he had been at a church event). Her first husband left her after cheating on her multiple times. Did I mention she grew up in poverty? She’s retiring at the end of this school year and moving to be closer to grandkids. I’m so happy for her. 

Why am I telling you this? My coworker is the kindest, sweetest person I know. I can tell she’s been struggling too. Her usual morning “hello” went away a little bit. When I hear her stories my stomach turns in knots and I think about how “that’ll never happen to me…” And then my stomach turns again because… How selfish and self centered of me. How illogical too. I never thought I’d get a divorce, now look at me. All of those things could very likely happen to me.

Even though she’s been struggling, she’s been coming to work each day and surviving. Sometimes that’s all we can ask of our peers. And I hear people saying stuff about how she’s checked out and not doing her job and I think “and YOU could do it better, if you were in the same situation?” 

That’s really the point I’m trying to make. I hear about crappy people and my gut reaction is “how could you?” My next reaction is “how are you doing it now?” Brene Brown asked the question “do you think people are always trying to do the right thing or do you think some people are just bad?” And by asking that question a lot of people felt guilt for those gut reactions. Just because someone doesn’t react the same way, or they’re using, or they are mad at their kids for homework, this could all be from their culture, parents reaction, or better yet, fear. Fear of using, of their kids using, or maybe just fearful that our own behavior is affecting others. 

By helping my coworker today I really got to know her and her story. And in doing so I am crate grateful for ever having worked with her. It is an honor to walk along this stories. 

The thought of death

Being alone a lot I think about the next year, 5 years, 10 years, up to the point of death (hopefully more than 10 years from now obviously). I think about it because I’m trying to figure out what I want. What do I see? Where do I need to go?

In the last five years I’ve lost some aunts and uncles and I’ve seen friends lose loved ones, and I see how difficult it is. I also see how bonding it is for the living and when I see someone going through grief, I think about how amazing family is. Yes, I can be there for a friend, but a spouse or parent or kid is so much more comforting. Family is truly the greatest gift. I’ve heard lots of research where the dying are asked about their biggest regrets, and it’s always around family. How they wish they had spent more time with them, or had been more present. Family is a reason for living. 

It’s always been something that baffles me about my ex. I don’t understand his reason for walking away from family. I would have done anything for him, and there were a few times I pictured my life without him (in the better times) and me heart broke to think about all the things he would miss out on by being gone. And then he willingly gave it all up and walked away. It’s a mystery that will probably resolve at a time that I need it the most. But in the meantime the question begins to plague my own life. 

What kind of family do I see myself having? Sometimes I feel like being alone is best, it shields me from pain and loss. But then I picture myself in hospice, and a kind nurse leans in and asks “what do you regret?” And in that moment I’m going to have to remember an entire lifetime. What do I not want to regret? Do I want to live my life shielding my heart and die alone with a few nieces and nephews by my side? Or do I want to have my own kids there? Is the fear of heartbreak worth the lack of regret? 

I think it’s worth it. I want to love daringly and openly. I just truly hope someone else sees that worthiness in me. 

Supposed to be writing

I’m supposed to write again. I’ve been drawn to do it, I narrate a lot in my head. But actually putting something on text feels silly and trivial. But I’m hoping it’ll help. 

2016 felt like a promising year. I remember the new year’s festivities and feeling a sense of relief that 2015 was over. I wanted the divorce and move and breakdown to disappear and to have a great outlook on this year. Alone I took a big sigh and said “I can do this on my own.” Something is stopping me. Big time. 

I’ve never felt more alone and I can feel myself isolating more and more. Not all is bad, I’m becoming comfortable doing things by myself. Actually, all I want to do is hang out by myself. Seeing people takes effort, and I’m constantly questioning my interactions. Am I funny enough? Am I talking too much? Am I not talking enough? What do I have to say about my life– there really isn’t anything exciting. Am I having too much wine? Am I fun? Would I want to be around me right now?

I feel boring. Some days I feel like I’m just going to blend into my bed and never get out. This happens for work too. I’m stumbling around, not really knowing what I’m supposed to be doing and if I’m doing it right so I’m bored most of the time (and I’m sure it’ll get bad soon since I’m probably missing something!). I hoped by making myself less busy that I would find myself easier. This spiritual journey would begin to come to me. I think I’ve just found emptiness thus far. 

I went to a baby shower this weekend and there was a hanging sign that something to the effect of “If you have love you have it all.” I stared at that sign a lot, as I listened to moms coo over their babies and the stuff they come with. I have love of my family and friends. But is that what the sign is saying? Or is it saying that if you’re single and you aren’t in love then you don’t have anything? Dramatic, I know. But does it need to get thrown in my face constantly, that I’m boring and I don’t have nearly what everyone else around me has? 

2016 doesn’t feel right yet. I am missing something. I’m bored. What is it?