Since I'm now 40 and very wise (ahem), I can report that one of the best things about getting older is becoming a little more self-aware. I'm not sure what it is exactly that helps self-awareness as you age. Is it not caring quite as much about what others think (mainly due to lack of time or energy), or maybe it's just spending so much time with yourself that, after 40 years, even if you're not paying attention, you kinda start to know a person, mmm, or perhaps it's the self-analysis that happens inevitably as you realize we're all marching toward death. Hmm. I don't know. All I know is, at least for me, I feel like I have a better handle on who I am most every day.
Now, I'm not saying that I actually DO anything with this information about myself. Let's not go crazy. But it's there. And most of it just is something that I become aware of over time, without much fanfare, but just another fact about who I am, like my star sign (Aries) or hair color (scratch that, that's impossible to determine, but likely grey under all that dye).
But recently I had a big birthday - 40 - and somehow, amidst all of the fanfare and the literal bells and whistles (of the slot machines - after all, I did celebrate in Vegas), I had an epiphany and within this post, I will confess it to you right now:
My name is Lynn and I am an aggressively helpful person.
That's right, you heard me. I am an aggressively helpful person. Don't pretend you didn't know. Even Meryl Streep couldn't act her way around this bombshell. We all know it. I'm just saying it out loud.
I like helping. I REALLY like helping. I will help you so hard that it hurts. I have a problem seeing the line between helping and hurting. I don't know when to stop and I cannot tell the difference between those who want my help and those who don't. I am blind and deaf to all signs that my helping is not welcome, or that I have gone too far.
It's like I'm an alcoholic, but for helping.
My name is Lynn and I'm a helpaholic with aggressive tendencies.
Sometimes people tell me they want help -- they may even ask for it. That's their first mistake. But most often, I deliver it unsolicited. Now, from time to time, we all NEED help. The problem is, when it comes right down to it, most people don't really want help unless it's on our terms. As humans, we don't like to be vulnerable or appear stupid, and needing help implies an admission that we can't do everything, and that we don't know it all. That we need another human for something, anything.
The ironic thing is that I personally hate asking for help, and rarely do so. I've gotten better over the years, particularly in my work life, but mainly because my overdeveloped sense of helping is matched only by my overdeveloped sense of justice, and I looked around and thought, "Gee, these people get paid to do something, and they're here and they want to work and learn so I guess it's okay if they have something to do." Hmm.
And I really hate unsolicited advice. My body and brain essentially
start going on lock down when I think someone is telling me what to do; I
immediately start shutting down. Since I know everything (ahem), I don't need you telling me what to do. How I can I process something when I allegedly know it already? I cannot compute.
In my personal life, I've caused injury to my physical and mental well-being by refusing to ask for help when I've clearly needed it. I've thrown out my back and fallen off chairs in the name of pride. At least the physical injuries heal -- the emotional damage I've done by weathering emotional crises solo by choice, choosing solitude and loneliness over camaraderie and support, is much more long-lasting.
I wish I could say that I came to all of this self-awareness on my own, by looking inward or by seeing the reactions of friends and family that brought me to this realization, but it was really by looking outward, at the world, and through my own interactions with others that made me realize, "Hey, if when this person does that, *I* don't like it, maybe when *I* do that, others don't like it..." Isn't it like the law of transitive property or something? Essentially when certain people would treat me a certain way, I'd think, "Now Len don't YOU do that," over and over until, in turning the lens on myself I realized, "Yeah, I do do that. I'm no better."
I heard myself saying - and still hear, this is a work in progress - two of the ugliest phrases on the planet used in polite human interaction:
"You should..." and "If I were you..."
I shudder just reading them (if I were you, I'd never use those again). They kinda make me throw up in my mouth a bit (you should drink some water). And I use them about 100 times a day, with every good intention. But what the person on the other side hears is, "Since I know better and you clearly are incapable, allow me to tell you what you're too stupid to know..."
Ugh.
In my defense, I swear that I think my helping, um, helps. Without any ego at all, I feel like I've been through a lot in my life, big and small, and if I can tell you where the best public restroom is in midtown NYC (Mandarin Oriental Hotel, Lobby, 35th floor),or, I don't know, what to do with your life (do as I say, not as I do), then I feel like it's my duty. As I often "joke," "If you're not helping, you're hurting."
Deep, right?
And sure, sometimes I am, but sometimes, I'm not.
As I heard one of my friends say, "She's got a lot of ideas."
Yeah, I do, yay me and my ideas, lots of them, but, oh, no, wait a minute, hmm, ouch.
I don't want to be that person. We all know that person. I don't want to be all up in your bizness. Especially if you don't want me there. I have my own problems that, if I only turned this helpfulness on myself, could keep me quite busy for the rest of my life, thank you very much.
So here in this post, I announce my retirement from the business of helping. Now, it won't happen overnight. Old habits die hard. I've been doing this for 39 years - at least. So consider it a gradual phase-out -- I'll start cutting back my hours, work from home a bit, then go part time, consult on a few projects, transition to Helper Emerita, until I phase out completely.
For now, you'll have to help me stop helping you. Maybe we should have a safe word. Whenever I start "helping" and you don't want it, just scream (subtlety is lost on me): "HURTING!"
Let's practice:
"You should think about calling your-----"
"HURTING!"
"If I were you, I'd shave some of that..."
"HURTING!"
Kinda like Marco Polo.
That oughta get my attention.
And if all else fails, just interrupt me to ask my advice. I love that stuff.
"You see, I have this friend who won't stop helping and I hate it."
It may take me awhile, but eventually I'll get the picture.
