With a Little Help For My Friends

When I was in high school, and again when I taught high school, most of the teachers had a theory that the 3rd quarter of the school year--the time between finals in mid-January and the week right before spring break--was the worst quarter.  Their reasoning was that

1. The weather was snow and cold, which everyone was sick of, and late February and into March, the weather was never consistent, sucker punching us with 60˚ morning that turned into biting 30˚ evenings.
2. There were fewer in-service days and almost zero holidays, not to mention very few fun, school-wide, social events to look forward to.
3. Christmas was over, and spring break seemed eons away, even if it was only two weeks out.

This theory attempted to explain why there were more in-school fights in 3rd quarter than the other quarters, why grades tended to slump around February, why more break ups happened.  I'm sure there is a correlation-does-not-imply-causation argument here.  Nevertheless, it felt like a sound theory at the time, and it made us all feel more validated in our 3rd-quarter miseries.

I'm currently wondering if that theory can be applied to out-of-school life, too.  I mean, Seasonal Affected Disorder is definitely a thing, there aren't more exciting holidays that come more often once you're not in school, and non-school-aged folk seem even more angsty about lack of social interaction than high schoolers ever were.

Regardless of the reason, I've been privy to the sadness and trials of several of my friends lately, more so than I remember being a couple months ago.  I'd love to tell you that I've handled these privy-counsels with grace and love, but all I can really say is that I did my best, which is not as good as I'd like it to be.

[Caveat] 
I remember in junior high, there was a group called "Natural Helpers."  The administration passed out little questionnaires at the beginning of the year with questions like, "What would you do if your friend came to you with ?" and, "What is the most important thing to do for someone who is struggling with ?"  At the end of the questionnaire, we had to put the name of one of our friends whom we felt comfortable going to with our own problems.  

After a couple of weeks, the administration notified certain people that they were now members of Natural Helpers.  They would go to a training retreat, have monthly or something meetings, and be expected to help their friends with all their problems.  

I was not asked to be a Natural Helper.  Back then, I was just hurt and confused as to why I wasn't a good enough friend to be one.  Now I'm legitimately upset because that would have been good training for anyone, and I didn't get it, and now I feel set back.  
[/Caveat]

Evidently Natural Helpers is a national organization.  Huh.

I've been through hard times in the past.  I've experienced painful loss, I've been through bad break ups, I've felt like a failure, I've been ashamed of myself, I've been disappointed in those around me, I've felt lost and confused, I've been unsure of myself, I've felt betrayed...suffice it to say that I've lived a life and haven't magically avoided issues.  All of those trials have given me tremendous sympathy for people going through rough patches that resemble my own, (They have also given me a fair bit of empathy for people experience pain I can't even imagine, but that's a different story).

Once I find myself on the other side of one particular hardship or another, my first instinct [after celebrating hard with some video games and a good book or two] is to make sure no one else has to go through what I did/have/will.  When you've been in a pit, felt it's cold, damp, darkness, and you see someone else about to fall in, you aren't about to sit blithely by and watch.

For a while, I thought this was enough.  I thought wanting to help was what mattered.  Especially as a Christian, I thought that if I wanted to help and I prayed to God to tell me the words to say, to give me the wisdom I lacked, I could be to struggling friends the comfort they needed.

But in this 3rd-quarter time of struggles for seemingly all of my close friends, I am finding that that is absolutely not true.  Just wanting to help is not enough.  Wanting desperately to lay myself over that pit like a net to keep someone from falling in, or fashioning my body into a rope to pull them out...neither of those is going to help them the way I want it to.

The reasons for this strategy's failure actually relates closely back to my last post, about non-profit volunteering.  When I come into someone else's trial and think myself the expert in ways that they aren't themselves, I am doing what all those well-meaning education students do to the Boys and Girls Club, only I am doing it to my friends.

Worse than that, I am not sure that my net-stretching and rope-throwing is always right-intentioned. I fear that, like the pretty picture above says, I am more trying to help myself than I am trying to help them.  Watching my friends in pain is not easy.  Watching my friends in pain that I have personally experienced is even harder, because I almost feel that pain again.  I want to end their pain so that I can end my own, or I want to end their pain in ways that I couldn't end my own back when I was personally in it.

Moreover, if I persist in trying to end their pain and their pain doesn't end, I might do them the immense disservice of blaming them for continuing to hurt.  I've done everything I can for them, I might think.  If they don't feel better, if they don't solve this problem of theirs, that's their fault.  If they would only take my advice, they would feel better.  I get frustrated with them and misplace my emotions.  Instead of being righteously angry with the forces that put them in the situation they're in, I am frustrated with them for not getting out of it.

I have to constantly remind myself that I am not the expert on life's troubles.  I have to remember that I am not my friend; I do not instantly know what will help them.  I have to remember that, when in pain, advice is not always what is wanted, not always what is needed.  When it is solicited, I may give it, but until then, maybe what they need is someone to sit in that pit with them, hold them, give them warm soup, let them destroy magical trinkets in Dumbledore's office, watch reruns of Boy Meets World.  And after they've done that, maybe they'll need someone to make sure they're taking their medication, someone to make sure they're eating, someone who offers to take them out to a movie or to dinner, or to see their friends.  Someone who shovels the driveway when they can't get out of bed, but then encourages them to go to work anyway.  Support doesn't always mean advice.  Sometimes it is a more subtle, more challenging thing to give.

I'm sure there are times, too, when it's not healthy for me to try to be that person to someone else.  When I am personally wrestling with my own demons, I may not be able to adequately comfort someone else.  When they're problems are too big and serious for me to try to tackle on my own, I should probably leave them to more experienced people.  When that person doesn't trust me, or when I am the source of their problems, I may just make the situation worse by trying to personally help.

But like Leo, there may always be something I can do, even if it just to point them in the right direction.

What do you think?  Is my theory of "helping" a sound one?  Are there other times when you think it's not a good idea to help someone?  Is there a limit to the help you should offer?  Is this a subject that is close to your heart?