I am the baby of the family. A baby, because I am the youngest. But also, a baby because my family attends to my needs and wants before I even have them. I do not They are always on stand-by to feed me, burp me, change me, clean me, dress me, hold me, and tuck me in. Figuratively speaking, that is (but now that I’ve written them out, it may not be that far from the truth!). They probably think they are fulfilling all my desires and easing all my distresses to make my life the best they could.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. I would not exist without them. But that is also my biggest problem – I have trouble existing on my own. Because I have been so satisfied all around, I am never quite sure what it is I need and want. Because I have been so well cared for, I never quite know how to look after myself. Because I have been so well attended, I never quite learned how to cry for help.
So when I am faced with difficulties, as much as I want to be helped, I end up looking for ways out so I would not have to ask for a helping hand.
Maybe I want to be helped because I do not have the skills or knowledge and I need an advice from an expert… but maybe, I can learn the skills and knowledge myself, then I will be fine. So I strived harder and harder to become an expert in everything, becoming increasingly short of time.
Maybe I want to be helped because some things are spinning out of control and I need an objective perspective from a third-party… but maybe, I can pull myself back and jump out of the twirl to gain a wider view, then I will be fine. So I pull further and further back, becoming increasingly detached.
Maybe I want to be helped because I have done everything I could possibly imagine and I need a fresh insight from just anyone for when all else fails… but maybe, I can think like someone else and mimic their solutions, then I will be fine. So I think more and more like others, becoming increasing not myself.
I was quickly going nowhere. I was so lost and feeling miserable. I curled up and started to weep quietly.
Just then, a warm hand that I once knew gently rubbed my back and wiped away my tears. It pulled me back up. It pointed out the direction into which I could take my first step. It held my hand and got me re-connected to others. It is still waved at me saying ‘hello’ from time to time.
I think I understand now that it is not necessary to cry for help. Just a simple cry, any cry – it does not have to be loud, it does not have to be a shout, it does not have to be a bawl. Just a weep, a whimper, a sob, even a trickle of teardrop down your cheek is all it takes for a warm and gentle helping hand to come find you.
Maybe even my hands can be of some help to you the next time you cry, now that you know me. But do cry in any way you can if you need help, for crying out loud!