You Just Wanna Help

I'm guilty of it too. In this department, I am probably the chiefest of sinners. You want to "help," but you come off (albeit quite unknowingly) condescendingly.

I feel awful writing that. Just imagine, you think you've done someone a favor, what you meant as a kind gesture, what you saw as an encouragement. You just wanted someone to know that you cared, that they were loved. Yet, in spite of all of the good intentions, you unintentionally brushed up against their "issue." You were trying to say, "I'm behind you in spite of (or maybe because of?) it," but you ended up saying, "I know what your sad problem is. It's obvious."

It's just that this time, I'm on the receiving end. Surprise, surprise.

I blame me. Honestly, people with good intentions shouldn't be at fault. They're trying their best to show love. The problem lies in the way it was received, hence the burden falls on the receiver. Nevertheless, it's unnerving to feel perceived as an object of pity. It makes one feel weak, exposed, ashamed, less than, beneath. But I still blame me.

Step one is dealing with the issue, right? But it's not something I nurse, hesitate to let go of for fear of the unfamiliar. In fact, I try to fling it off of me, each time it lands on me like a wet bat. But I'm powerless to completely shoo it away. And it's frustrating, rather than comforting, that other people notice it fluttering its webby wings around me, and even call my attention to it while I'm trying to let go of things I have no control over.

I know. I should get over it and be thankful that there are people who love me. I am. And in the end, I know that is what matters.