My mental wellbeing will allow me to help others

My mental wellbeing will allow me to help others: my theme for the last month or so.

I never put much thought into why I feel this desire to help others. It has just been innate, in a sense. I’ll always help wherever I can. I feel obligated to.

In the same sense, I also always feel a desire to find the bad in everything. I dwell on the negative, and really, we all do. I learned this two weeks ago now that it’s pretty natural. I think it’s evolutionary, is what my therapist said.

It’s all too easy.

She asked me to think back on when someone was helpful to me, and I’ll be honest, it took me a lot longer to think of that than I liked. My memory also wasn’t recent. It was one from about three years ago, which really bothered me.

I know I’ve had a lot of good happen to me recently, but why can’t I think of it?

Why isn’t it top of mind? It certainly should be.

She also asked when I felt I was most helpful to someone. That memory? Yeah, it was from about three years ago, too. It also took me a while to find that memory. I felt most helpful volunteering in an animal shelter, which is insane to me. I’ve done work as a court appointed special advocate, or CASA, for children in the foster care system. Why don’t I feel most helpful with that?

I’ve also helped people in crappy situations tells their stories on TV, helped them get their stolen belongings back, let them change how the community saw their son or daughter who passed away tragically. Why did none of that feel helpful?

She asked me who I think is the most helpful person I know? Instantly, with tears of pride in my eyes, I tell her Justin. He selflessly and immediately tends to others in their worst times. He talks to them with such compassion and empathy, and I know it. His coworkers tell me all the time. He stops veterans at the store wearing their WWII, Korean War, Vietnam War or Veteran hats to thank them for their service. He asks cashiers and waiters how their day is going as we pay for whatever it is we’re buying.

“It’s just nice. I’m sure most people don’t take the time to see how they’re doing,” he’s once said to me.

He does it simply to show someone cares.

I told my therapist it bothered me to know I struggled to find the good in my life. We talked about that whole innate ability to see negativity rather than positivity.

She suggested I started journaling the good in life, what I’m most grateful for.

I’m really grateful for so much. This blog, oddly enough, for starters is something to be grateful for. It was created because hundreds of people who I’ve met directly or indirectly care enough to know what’s going on.

I don’t write for sympathy, too. In fact, I write for quite the opposite. I’d much rather people stop telling me I’m brave, stop telling me they’re thinking of me. It’s not because I don’t appreciate it. I really do.

I’m just struggling with figuring out why writing isn’t me being selfish, why it isn’t me creating an illusion of a broken young woman.

Page one of my gratitude journal, as I’m calling it, starts off with the dozens of people following along in my crazy journey, the ones who send me messages asking about my wellbeing, telling me they thought of me this week and the hundreds who wished me a happy birthday. I can tell you with certain honesty, I don’t feel deserving of that love, but let me also make it clear how helpful it is to me.

Honestly, starting this journal was a bit difficult. As the days go on, though, I’m learning it’s just as easy to see the good in life, what I’m most appreciative for, as it is to see the bad.

We talked this recent Friday about how it potentially changed how I navigated through life the last couple weeks, how I might’ve been a bit more understanding of other things around me.

I, for one, think she’s right.