No one wants to know there are no happy endings.
No one wants to know it doesn’t get better.
It’s sometimes hard to accept that life doesn’t turn out the way you’d hoped for, wished hard for, dreamed big for.
My life? Not a fairy tale, though not a tragedy. I don’t even really remember what I’d dreamed my life would be like. I’m sure I had dreams. Maybe I was just a realistic kid.
My life is pretty o.k. Could I have more money? Could I be less fat? Sure. But I feel consistently satisfied that all’s well. Millionaires and Kardashians aside, I’m still one of the lucky ones.
How does one handle feeling more blessed than others? Should we be grateful all the time? Should we feel guilty? How do we channel our blessings and guilt into supporting others, without condescension?
This may seem like a first-world problem, but I see it happening for a lot of people. They try to live a life of giving, but it sometimes gets shouted down by others who write them off as disingenuous, and worse, privileged.
Helping others isn’t that easy, because it isn’t always easy to accept ‘help’. Yes, there is distrust, there is fear. And yes, there is the tug and pull of bravery and humility that are required in asking for and/or receiving help.
There can be a lot of pressure on the giver as well. Yes, the very fact of a giver’s economic circumstance can undercut all possible goodwill they have to offer. Working in the nonprofit/community-based trenches as I do, I see it’s disheartening for some. I’m extremely lucky to be able to witness that there are many who stay in the struggle. They keep working at facilitating, not directing, and at being a partner, not a savior.
Me? I’m still lucky. Plentiful food in my plentiful belly. All the comforts of home to welcome me at the end of each day. I work hard for my modest money, but I work hardest at not taking things for granted.