The Day I Became a Bitch (a rant)

Well, not really.
But I have been becoming rapidly sick and tired of babying and spoonfeeding my "friends" throughout all my life, and recently have stopped doing it... Well, almost. Certainly I don't do it to the point of overextending myself, wasting (much) of my time, anymore.
After all, I do like to help.
But the babying days are GONE.
Today I am only writing about it, that's all.
(But the written word has a special power, so we'll see what comes out of it, in the long run.)

What do I mean by spoonfeeding and babying others?
Trying to make them think things through, and do so from their perspective, from what they want for themselves, and helping them find practical data for their advancement. (Because some of them - all adult, mature people - are too stupid, or lazy, or scared of actual advancement, or all of the above - to search the internet efficiently on their own.)
It's one big psychotherapy session, complete with actual problem-solving for them (when they seem unable or too scared or something to do it on their own).

I have been doing that all my life.
I like to help. And I have a LOT to offer.
In truth, I have inordinate amounts of goodies to offer.
(Well, yes, even if I say so myself. Nobody else will; it's taken for granted.)
And I've always believed that from those who have been given a lot, a lot is expected.

But even though I never - consciously - expected any "reward" from them (I can honestly say that the satisfaction of seeing a problem go away, or just a person cheer up, was enough of a "reward" to me), the time came when I needed help. I didn't even know it myself, but it was evident to everyone else. Or it should have been. 
But none came.

So I started thinking very thoroughly about my own life, and discovered all the instances of "mismanagement" - of sheer and criminal neglect - that I and my sibling were subjected to, by parents who did love us very much, but were simply incompetent as parents. (They did teach us, particularly my dear mother, to be good people, pure and simple, and that is hugely important. Then again, perhaps they only didn't spoil it entirely, if you know what I mean.)  I - and my sibling - could be the poster children of laissez-faire victims. 

And then I started thinking of all the mistakes and errors - my mistakes and my errors - that accumulated over the years, partly as a result of those earlier parental errors, and realized that never EVER did I have a single friendly presence in my life who would invest in me not half, not one third, but one tenth or less of what I invested in other people, most of whom I don't even love - heck, most of them I don't even LIKE! But that doesn't prevent me from helping them in any way I can if needed.

Someone - some one - once told me that I was an ocean of Being and talent.
Very nice; but oceans have no power, unless there is a force, a wind, directing their waves. They are forever folded into themselves, static, their waves - the talents - consumed by each other, with only the occasional wave hitting the shores with any force and perhaps, with the persistence that soft power needs, carving on some rock a weak memento of what could have been.


Not one person, not one adult - or peer - ever tried to see the world through my eyes and help me find the right direction from my own perspective and according to my own wishes, like I do, with special care not to impose my views on what is good in life. 
Not one person did ever force me, in a friendly and warm but effective way, to think through what I was doing or not doing, to even ask me what I wanted to do in life! let alone to help me figure out how exactly was I going to get it.
Nobody ever invested in me a fraction of the time and genuine thoughtfulness and effort that I have been investing in others since childhood - while also trying to be my own friend, seeing that I had no other friends. (I don't mean people to play with. You know what I mean.)

And for the first time in my life, I felt truly and deeply SORRY for myself.

People who don't think too deeply will blurt out that feeling sorry for oneself isn't helpful.
Poppycock!
It all depends on the circumstances and the quality of the "sorrow" you feel, and on what you do as a result of that feeling.
It all depends, as all does, on the context.
I only wish it had happened much, much earlier!
Because as a result of that I felt charity - agape, the love towards the Other - for myself.

What prompted me to write this?
The fact that I spent time prodding a "friend" to think what she really wanted in a certain situation, and finding helpful data for her... while she sat on the other side, too scared (you won't believe this, but it's true) to even click on the links I sent her, because - I suppose - she prefers to dream on and not face reality.
(Eventually she did click on them and started researching, but not before I made her see that she was afraid of success, of making her wishes come true. And I'll bet you anything that tomorrow this new-found momentum will be gone... Because it's happened many times before.)

That prompted me, today of all days.
The anger that I felt - towards myself - for dragging her dead weight (not for the first time - or the tenth, or the twentieth - but for the last time).

Well, I am done dragging dead weight.
It can drag itself, or remain dead, for all I care.
I will still help, but I will NOT drag anyone's weight across their vital bridges.

Will they learn?
I don't know.
I don't really care.
Because what that life-long haul of dead weight dragging did to me was to drain me of the last shred of affection I may have had for others. All I have left is resentment and/or contempt for them, depending on the moment.
That's not what I want for my heart and my mind.

Don't wait until it happens to you, too.
Shed the weight, let them walk on their own feet - or drown.
Don't drown with them. You'll be doing a favour to no one.

I for one am sick and tired of takers, and I am done dragging dead weight.
And for the first time in years I feel as light as a bird.
And ready to take flight.