It’s been a while since I wrote a prompt page. I’m still disenchanted with the prompts offered by WordPress. Sad but true. I miss being able to write though. I miss having something that makes me stop and actually think about an area of my life, or hypothesize about what I would do in a situation.

 

Well I might not be able to do anything about WordPress prompts sucking, but I can go out and find my own prompts, and so that’s what I did.

 

The Learning Network has a page with 500 Prompts for Narrative and Personal Writing, and I intend to go through most of them, at least for now. I believe I’m going to start with the Morality and Religion section because I find it interesting.

---

 

Today’s Topic: How Do You Help?

 

What have I done in the past to help others?

Lots of things. So many things. Countless things. Things that I remember and things I have forgotten. I’m normally there for emotional support. I listen. I empathize. I’m the free therapy that everyone looks for but never realizes that they have. I’m the “go to” person because if you need help, and I consider you my friend, there’s literally nothing I wouldn’t do.

 

One of the things that sticks out as an example of this is the tirade relationship I had with Warren #2 and Taya. It was the first time I had broken up with Warren. Things weren’t working out. I was miserable, it was affecting my school, it wasn’t getting better and nothing I was doing was helping to fix the issue. He was still unemployed and sitting and home on his computer all day playing World of Warcraft.

 

I kicked him out of my apartment because I was enabling him, and felt he needed to figure out his life. I wasn’t helping him be a better person. If anything, I was feeding into his directionless-ness.

 

I ended up finding one of his shirts mixed into my laundry. I felt like I had to return it because it wasn’t mine. Warren and moved in with two of my friends, so I knew where he was at. I went to the apartment, hoping that he wouldn’t be there, or would still be asleep since it was so early in the morning. I was hoping Ryan would answer the door and it could be a super quick exchange.

 

Instead Warren answered. It led to a really long conversation. He had already found another girl. Two weeks? Maybe one? He had met her at a party. No surprise there. We ended up trying to do a closed polyamerous relationship. It didn’t work, but Taya and I became close for a while.

 

She ended up becoming pregnant.

 

It was a shock for her and we talked about it alone a lot. She didn’t know what to do. She had a lot of health issues that would have made the pregnancy really risky for her and the baby. Warren wasn’t the best father figure. It was an accident and now she was faced with the reality of her actions.

 

After a lot of talking her choice was to have an abortion. For anyone who has read a lot of my earlier stuff you may know that that choice was hard for me to hear. Potentially being infertile myself, my older brother being a “mistake”, on top with the fact that I feel you have to own up to your actions… Personally, for me, it wouldn’t have been an option.

 

But it wasn’t, isn’t, my life. It was Taya’s, and this was what she thought would be the right choice. Not just for her. But for everyone involved, including the potential child she wouldn’t be able to provide properly for.

 

She wasn’t able to afford the abortion. And so now that the choice about “what to do” had been made it became a question of how? Trading one stress for another, one just as daunting and impossible when both people involved are unemployed.

 

I paid for it.

 

I was the one who drove her to the clinic and sat with her while people outside called her a baby killer and slut shamed her and told her what a horrible person she was. I’m the one who went out and got us McDonalds because we had to wait for four hours for her to be seen. I drove her home while she cried in the back seat of my car, apologizing, for what I’m not sure. I can only imagine what was going through her head.

 

I’m the one who brought her home and tucked her into bed, then went to the store to get her a stuffed animal, a wolf like one she had been talking about, and brought it back to her so she wouldn’t have to sleep alone.

 

Warren didn’t do any of that. Taya even paid me back eventually for half of the cost. Warren never did.

 

It wasn’t my mistake. It wasn’t the choice I agreed with. And it certainly wasn’t my obligation to make any of it right. But I cared for Taya, and I wanted to help her, support her, because we all make mistakes and we all have to figure out how we move forward from them.

 

What do I do now to help others?

Same old same old? I haven’t changed. I still do my best to remember whenever anyone does something to help me.

 

Donna getting the fridge approved for the break room. Alex giving me his furniture before he moved. Zane squeezing the lime juice from the limes. RB listening to me complain about my relationship and giving me advice. Terri encouraging me while we’re training. Clavan being understanding about the work situation.

 

I have so many people in my life who are kind to me, who do things for me because they care and are good people. I do what I can, when I can, to try to repay them for their time and effort. Sometimes it’s small. A quick email, a cross stitch. Other times it’s a $200 check tucked away into a Christmas card. It all depends.

 

How does helping others affect me?

Helping others gives me a sense of purpose. I have made someone’s life easier. I have improved their situation, their mental state. I have made life seem less shitty and a little more worth living. It’s a good feeling. It’s amazing because normally, when I get their message about “You completely made my day,” I’m going through my own downhill slide. Something negative has happened to me. A crap day, an argument, self-doubt, whatever.

 

But then I get this message from someone I care about telling me how much they appreciate me and how grateful they are that our paths crossed. When someone says thank you to me it makes me feel like I’m doing something right, even if everything else feels wrong. It makes me feel like a good person when I begin to doubt if I really am one.

 

Helping others helps myself. It makes me realize there’s more to life than money or a paycheck or work or awards and goals and bar charts and performance records. There’s an important element missing from the periodic table. One that we’re never really taught in school.

 

It’s the human element, and we need more of that in our lives I think.

 

What tips do I have for helping others?

Do more. Talk less.

 

Maybe that’s a little blunt, borderline rude, but that’s how I feel.

 

We’re all quick to say things. “Oh, let me know if you need anything,” or, “I’ll be there for you.”

 

But very rarely do people actually pull through, and sometimes the hardest thing in the world is to ask for help. We all talk about how we’ve lost faith in humanity and the world sucks and there’s so much violence and bad stuff going on…

 

Fight that.

 

Be a force of good. Actually go out and do something for someone else. Without being asked. Pay it forward at the drive thru. Give your boss or employee a card saying that you appreciate their work. Randomly give your significant other a hug or a kiss on the forehead and let them know they matter. Do the laundry if that’s normally not your chore. Clean out the car.

 

Kindness and helping doesn’t have to cost money. It doesn’t have to be a huge life-changing task. Something as simple as a kind word, a small loving touch can help people feel more real, more human, more worthwhile.

 

Love the people around you. That’s my advice.