It has taken a fair amount of self-observation and self-reflection for me to understand and accept myself, particularly when it comes to the subject of helping others. I am neither entirely selfish nor entirely charitable. In Sunday School and scouting, I learned that helping those in need is a virtuous act and a humanitarian responsibility. It also feels good. At school and work, I learned to discern between helping and enabling. I also learned that helping can be unreasonably costly for me and my family and so I adopted the Biblical proverb that “charity begins at home”. The airlines gave me another good rule to follow. They say, “Once you have secured your own air mask, then you can assist those around you.” With these principles in place, finding the right balance for me beyond securing myself and helping my family was something I stumbled upon.
I suppose my approach to helping others is rooted in a part of my personality that is highly empathic. I discovered that I am deeply affected by human suffering to the point that I experience empathy in my body. For example, when my mother broke her foot, my foot swelled up so badly that she carted me off to the doctor for an examination. He diagnosed my ailment as “sympathy pain” and my foot reverted back to normal size almost immediately. My involuntary responses to the physical ailments of family and friends occurred frequently into my late adolescence, prompting my mother to tell me to completely abandon any notion of entering the medical field. Not surprisingly, my response to the emotional suffering of others wasn’t much better, particularly when that suffering related to injustice, suspense, and acts of violence. My kids joke about which movies I can and cannot watch because of my acute emotional responses. One example was during the opening scene of “Saving Private Ryan”. I was crying so hard that my friend suggested I leave. Over the years, I have left many movie theaters, mid-screening, to collect myself or to completely avoid the most emotionally difficult parts. As I’ve gotten older, my tolerance for emotionally taxing stories has gotten worse to the point where I need to know the end of a story before I can read the book or watch the movie.
The point is that my high level of empathy greatly influences my approach to helping others. If I cannot tolerate watching fictional injustice, suspense, violence, and human suffering, imagine the depth of my agony in real life. When I see those things happening to people, I have to do something to help. The only emotional relief I get comes from knowing that I am doing what I can to relieve the human suffering before my eyes. However, I also learned that my approach to helping is a product of recognizing my own limitations.
While I am highly empathetic, I realize that I am also highly judgmental. When I was in my early twenties, I thought I could help young women in juvenile detention. I visited the detention center several times and had conversations with the young women being detained for a variety of serious crimes. I quickly discovered that I was too angry and disappointed by their warped thinking and willingness to harm others that I abandoned the notion that I was the right person to help them. I realized that my generosity didn’t extend to people who harmed themselves or others. I discovered that my heart wasn’t that big after all. Thankfully, there are other people who have the level of compassion needed to help others find redemption, healing, and rehabilitation. I have to admit that I greatly admire the doctors and nurses who continue dealing with unvaccinated COVID-19 patients with patience and compassion these days. I couldn’t do it.
I’m also limited by an acute fear of heights, fire, water, and speed. I’ve never been the dare devil who rides roller coasters, rock climbs, surfs, mountain bikes or jumps out of planes for pleasure. I learned early on that even horseback riding was a bit too much for me. In Costa Rica, I refused the opportunity to zipline, opting to miss the beautiful forest view. In Hawaii, I sat in the boat while my family enjoyed snorkeling off the island of Kauai. And in Italy, I remained seated in the boat when my companions jumped into the crystal blue water of Blue Grotto off the island of Capri. So, it’s highly doubtful that anyone would ever find me on a dangerous rescue mission when it involves confronting these fears.
On a somewhat redeeming note, I realized through a game of “This or That” that as a scaredy cat and introvert my most prominent pattern of helping people over the years has taken the form of writing a check as opposed to physically showing up to help others. I’m not the person you will find on the front lines of a disaster, distributing food, marching in a protest, or canvasing a neighborhood on behalf of a candidate. Over the years, I have done most of these things at least once or twice and quickly discovered that I much prefer behind the scenes preparations, financial donations, or even fundraising. I prefer helping by using my pocketbook, skills, and my handiwork rather than my physical presence. For extroverts and dare devils, helping likely entails very different behaviors.
The final realization about my approach to helping others has to do with a lesson many of us have learned about giving a fish versus teaching a person to fish. I find that I am an advocate of both. Giving a fish solves the immediate problem; teaching to fish deals with the elimination of the need in the long term. I’ve worked to teach my own children to fish, although sometimes I wasn’t 100% effective and they had to learn the hard way. Beyond my family, I donate to Women for Women International, various scholarship funds, and The Boys and Girls Club with the mindset that this kind of helping enables people become the best version of themselves.
However, sometimes helping others in an immediate situation isn’t about teaching anyone a lesson; it’s about mitigating immediate suffering. So, I give to Doctors Without Borders, Unicef, Children’s hospitals, and St. Jude. When a homeless person on the street is asking for money, I tend to give it. He or she isn’t looking for a lesson on how to get a job and become a productive citizen. That person is simply trying to survive through mental illness and/or substance abuse and an inadequate public assistance system. I try to make it a point to give without judgment. In this regard, my husband taught me a different approach by refusing to give money and offering food instead so that the money can’t be spent feeding an addiction. He has a point. He will go out of his way to purchase a sandwich and take it to that person instead. Admittedly, his approach is better than mine.
I didn’t realize that the desire to help others wasn’t a universal human trait. It took a while for me to realize that I was one of those people who could only find fulfillment in my career if it entailed helping others. My parents passed down the notion that it was more important to make a lot of money and then help people on the side. My mother was known for her volunteerism in the community. However, it was only after her death that I pursued my second career as an educator and counselor. My second career made me much happier than my corporate career in finance despite the significant pay cut. I don’t dispute that some people make a ton of money and give a lot of money to charity. However, only a few actually give in proportion to their wealth and without ego-boosting strings attached. I imagine a lot of injustice, pain, and suffering in this world would be significantly reduced if the wealthiest among us actually cared enough to contribute what is needed. They have the means, but not the will. The reality is that many of them don’t even want to pay their fair share in taxes.
Better humans help others. The method may differ according to our personalities and circumstances, but the virtue and humanitarian responsibility of helping our fellow human beings is what better humans are compelled by empathy and conscience to do.
