A Brief Pause for Helplessness

Just trying to get through the day.

I just found out that a dear friend in Canada is in the hospital for at least a week. He’s all alone, in his 70’s. And I can’t cross the Canadian border without quarantining myself for two weeks. It’s frustrating beyond belief.

I’m feeling fidgety. I’m having trouble concentrating. I’m having trouble blogging. I’m having trouble.

I know what this is, though. It’s helplessness. I don’t do well with helplessness.

If I’m trapped in a corner with nowhere to go, it freaks me out. If I’m feeling bullied, and I can’t think of a way to resolve it without damaging important relationships, I struggle with that, too. I wouldn’t do well in prison. But the worst feeling of all is when someone needs help and I can’t give it to them. Not good. Not good.

But there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. So I’m going to allow myself a periodic brief pause to feel the helplessness, and then I’m going to do my best to set it aside and do what I can do. Because if I sit in this space for too long, I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind.

So, yeah. Just trying to get through the day, here. Hope all’s well with you, dear reader.

Portable gratitude. Inspiring pictures. Claim your copy of my first collection of favorite posts! http://amzn.to/2mlPVh5


Intentional Helplessness

A friend once told me about his aunt, who, as a teenager, decided to sit down in a chair and not get up, to the point where months later, she couldn’t. She never walked again. Stuff like that pisses me off. It’s manipulative and counterproductive and, frankly, mentally ill. But she had to have had help in her stupidity, because she must have eaten and defecated during that time, and someone must have dealt with that.

This reminds me of the many adults I’ve encountered in my lifetime who refuse to learn how to drive a car. I have little respect for these people because invariably they expect family members to chauffer them around or run errands for them. By rendering themselves helpless, they actually are controlling others. I believe in dominance and submission circles this is referred to as “topping from the bottom”, and I find it infuriating.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not attacking people with anxiety disorders or those who have mitigating circumstances for their behaviors. I’m only going after those passive aggressive manipulators and the people who enable them. There’s sometimes more to the story, and I realize that. But back to my rant.

I don’t know who annoys me more, the people who feel they have the right to place all that extra burden on those around them, or the people who enable them in their efforts. Stop doing grocery runs for mom and see how quickly she either grasps the concept of public transportation or learns how to freakin’ drive like the rest of the adult world.

I’ve also crossed paths with people who have grown their fingernails two to three inches long. I’m sorry, but I am not going to pick your nose for you. I refuse. Can’t pick up the credit card you dropped on the floor? What a pity. Here’s a nail clipper.

Back in the dark ages, before internet, when we shared one computer for the entire office and it had a black screen with green, ectoplasmic lettering, I had one coworker who absolutely would not learn the few simple key strokes required to retrieve the data that was essential to have at various times throughout the day. She’d wait until I was at the computer, and then she’d ask me to do it. I did it once or twice, but then I said, “Look, write these steps down, because next time you ask me to do it for you, I’m going to say no.” She didn’t write it down. Next time she asked me to do it, I said no. And she got angry. I’m sorry, are your fingers broken? No? Maybe it’s your brain, then.

I guess I just don’t make a very good enabler. It would be impossible for someone to live under my roof and grow to 600 pounds, to the point where first responders have to remove a bedroom wall in order to cart their butt to the hospital. No. To get to the point where you’re too fat to walk, someone has to be willing to shop, pay for, and hand you the twinkies, and I’m not your girl.

I even get irritated with women who wear 5 inch heels and then complain they can’t run. Yes you can. You just choose not to. There’s a difference.

Life is going to throw you plenty of curve balls. Why on earth would you want to place obstacles in your own path?


[Image credit: healthylifestylesliving.com]