Helping

by susansommers

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.