| Help - A Personal Story by Dian McCarthy |
Do you ever wonder why some people help while others don’t? The other day, after buying groceries for an après-ski party, a twelve-pack of Smithwick’s shot off my
cart as though it was being spat out (Clearly, mine was a cart with bad taste!). Startled, I stopped to pick up the erupting mess only to have my cart roll away and eject
yet another pack! This did not bode well for me, or my party; still, a young man nearby only mustered “Dude, that sucks!” as he walked by. Disappointed as I was that
he didn’t lend a hand, I couldn’t necessarily blame him.
The truth is – I’m a chronic helper. I can’t seem to stop myself. And while I truly believe that a spirit of service makes our world a better place, experience has taught
me that helping others is a lot like being a wayward sock on the floor while someone is vacuuming. You’re in danger of getting sucked in, chewed up, and if you’re
lucky, spit out.
Two years ago, I learned my friend was in a troubled marriage. Without hesitating, I gave my support to her and her two children and my home became their safe
haven. Her husband was subsequently arrested for domestic violence, and it was at our house over the following months that the three of them sought comfort
almost daily and grappled with the changes in their lives.
However, in an alarming reversal of intention, they reconciled at their first divorce hearing. He was home by that weekend, and my head was spinning knowing that
12 years of behavior, while it would be wonderful, isn’t likely to disappear in a few short months. I felt like I was watching my friend throw herself and her children in
front of a freight train and could only stand by hoping desperately that it had changed tracks.
Our friendship evaporated despite my having repeatedly extended my hand. She never explained, and while I can understand any number of reasons, I nonetheless
struggled to process a significant, ambiguous loss. Not really knowing left me feeling ill-equipped to help my children grasp why their pseudo-siblings no longer
came over to play and, worse, why I couldn’t fix it for them. I was ashamed as a parent, having exposed my children to a situation as complex and poisonous as
theirs.
You see, what I hadn’t realized going in was that as I took on her troubles, I would equally give of myself. In caring for her family, I put up my own in good faith that my
gift would be cared for without considering the irrationality of expecting care from someone who, at that moment, was struggling to care for herself. That it wasn’t still
stings to a degree and I have often regretted my involvement. However, I would have regretted simply standing by even more. There are times when we must step in,
and this was one of them.
As I ran through the parking lot, with my foaming carton, smelling like a brewery, a kind older woman caught my careening carriage. As she did so, she said, “What a
bad day! Don’t worry, dear. It will get better. It already did. Someone helped you!” And so they had, and I was thankful.
Dian McCarthy is a freelance writer from Goffstown. When she isn’t writing, Dian helps run the family business and volunteers in her children’s schools. She also
enjoys designing gardens, being active in her community and spending time with her family. Dian can be reached via e-mail at thebibliotech@comcast.net.
cart as though it was being spat out (Clearly, mine was a cart with bad taste!). Startled, I stopped to pick up the erupting mess only to have my cart roll away and eject
yet another pack! This did not bode well for me, or my party; still, a young man nearby only mustered “Dude, that sucks!” as he walked by. Disappointed as I was that
he didn’t lend a hand, I couldn’t necessarily blame him.
The truth is – I’m a chronic helper. I can’t seem to stop myself. And while I truly believe that a spirit of service makes our world a better place, experience has taught
me that helping others is a lot like being a wayward sock on the floor while someone is vacuuming. You’re in danger of getting sucked in, chewed up, and if you’re
lucky, spit out.
Two years ago, I learned my friend was in a troubled marriage. Without hesitating, I gave my support to her and her two children and my home became their safe
haven. Her husband was subsequently arrested for domestic violence, and it was at our house over the following months that the three of them sought comfort
almost daily and grappled with the changes in their lives.
However, in an alarming reversal of intention, they reconciled at their first divorce hearing. He was home by that weekend, and my head was spinning knowing that
12 years of behavior, while it would be wonderful, isn’t likely to disappear in a few short months. I felt like I was watching my friend throw herself and her children in
front of a freight train and could only stand by hoping desperately that it had changed tracks.
Our friendship evaporated despite my having repeatedly extended my hand. She never explained, and while I can understand any number of reasons, I nonetheless
struggled to process a significant, ambiguous loss. Not really knowing left me feeling ill-equipped to help my children grasp why their pseudo-siblings no longer
came over to play and, worse, why I couldn’t fix it for them. I was ashamed as a parent, having exposed my children to a situation as complex and poisonous as
theirs.
You see, what I hadn’t realized going in was that as I took on her troubles, I would equally give of myself. In caring for her family, I put up my own in good faith that my
gift would be cared for without considering the irrationality of expecting care from someone who, at that moment, was struggling to care for herself. That it wasn’t still
stings to a degree and I have often regretted my involvement. However, I would have regretted simply standing by even more. There are times when we must step in,
and this was one of them.
As I ran through the parking lot, with my foaming carton, smelling like a brewery, a kind older woman caught my careening carriage. As she did so, she said, “What a
bad day! Don’t worry, dear. It will get better. It already did. Someone helped you!” And so they had, and I was thankful.
Dian McCarthy is a freelance writer from Goffstown. When she isn’t writing, Dian helps run the family business and volunteers in her children’s schools. She also
enjoys designing gardens, being active in her community and spending time with her family. Dian can be reached via e-mail at thebibliotech@comcast.net.
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applaud local women. The core of the magazine is our inspirational women's articles, most of which feature local women but occasionally we are
able to interview national women who we feel provide a unique inspiration for our readers. Our other articles cover topics of interest such as food
recipes, home, garden, beauty, health, fashion, dating, parenting, seniors, finance, business, hair care, skin care, advice, real estate, insurance,
weddings etc. Each issue has a feature section as well. Many of our articles are written by local business people who provide information
relevant to their business expertise. The Applaud Women website is also a resource center for local women including the most comprehensive
listings of Restaurants, Weddings, Female doctors and Hotels. It also includes a number of informational pages with links, articles and RSS feeds
to both local and national websites of interest to women in NH & n. MA.
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