Help

It’s shocking when they get mad at you for trying to help them.

Then they become blind to the patterns they set up that block your help.

I have found myself near begging for help on how I could help people.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about genuine do-gooder type of stuff.  As much as I love the image of me with a cape, I find myself afraid of even a kind word to people sitting still on the sidewalk.  I skitter from that kind of help like a mouse.  Anything in motion, a nod, carry on, that’s manageable.  Actual contact, engagement, the lights go on and Iike a flash the shadows.

I’m working on that; miserably.  I’m finding the modern day Samaritan thing to be difficult in the translation.

No.  I’m talking about let’s move the couch kinds of stuff.  Mutually beneficial tasks.  Projects that take a few and help a few.  Even other people’s projects that I’m paid to do things like…help.

I had a Sisyphus with this job recently in the prep.  The Help me Help you had the wincing effect of a personal colonoscopy.  My kid beat up their kids.  I threw up on their wedding dress.  I burned off their mustache.  I drove over their turtle.  I gave their Grandma pneumonia.  Cascade in the soup.  Poop toothpaste.

Simple questions like “what would you like?” and the sprinkler system went off.

So strange.

Blog home...