Ever Helpful...

Chapter 1

The drive home was coated in clouds, and the wind whistled where her car pranced down the road, accustomed to the path it traveled daily. Tears seemed to have been a common theme that day as a raindrop exploded on her windshield like a firework. Another came until they brought their whole army down onto the unassuming ground below. Her windshield wipers tried to defend the car but were soon outmatched and overtaken. A loud ring interrupted the battle, shaking her from her focus. A glance at her car's built-in TV (as she liked to refer to it) to see her friend's name splashed across the screen. She breathed in and released it after a momentary hold at the top of her inhale. Then, after the fourth ring, selected the green answer key on her steering wheel. 

“Hey!” Her friend's tone was unreadable.

“Hey…”  She cloned.  

“You got a second?” The voice on the other end of the line felt defeated. Like a wilted plant reaching out for water.

She could be that water, it was what she was good at. “Of course!” Her windshield wipers slashed through the army of rain as it hammered onto the glass. Her tires carried her across puddles, and the black cement lit up by the dancing lights as cars weaved in and out of lanes like needles in sewing projects. Meanwhile, the conversation hummed along like a heartbreak song. 

“I just don’t know what to do anymore.” The distress was evident. 

“I am sure. That sucks, I’m so sorry…” All she could do was empathize. Let her friend know that she was there with an open ear and a sympathetic heart. “Do you want me to come over for an hour? I just need to make a call, but we can watch a movie.” 

“No, no that’s ok, thank you! I need to finish a few things. But, maybe I’ll take you up on that tomorrow.” Her friend sighed and then yawned. 

“Open proposal! Love you.” She turned the car off now under the safe canopy of her apartment's parking garage.

Chapter 2

The stairs reverberated around with each step, causing a ringing to musically decorate the concrete vertical tube that haunted her on move-in day, grocery day, basically any day that involved a heavy weight or armfuls of things. But, they weren’t exactly her friend on that day either due to the tired way her mind felt after a day of crying with her friend at work, helping her aunt with a random family crisis after work, and then leaving her office to talk her friend through a spiral on her way home. But, she couldn’t give up now, because yesterday she had promised her neighbor she would help her clean her apartment. You see, her neighbor was an elderly woman who was the nicest and would always make her a batch of cookies during the Christmas season. When her neighbor caught her, running late to work, yesterday morning and asked if she could help, she hurriedly replied yes, because of course! It shouldn’t be that hard. Wrong. Very wrong. She took three trips to the trash bin outside their building. Meaning she had to carry six trash bags down those dang concrete stairs, then hike all the way back up and scrub some more. But she wasn’t upset about it. Helping others felt like a love language in a way. If she should help alleviate someone’s tension , or extra work, or help someone feel loved a little extra… It gave her joy. It felt like that was part of her purpose. 

Chapter 3 

“Oh, thank you for helping me, dear!” Her neighbor was fluffing a pillow, and from all her years resting on her shoulders they reached for the floor.

“It’s no problem, honest.” Her hands drew large circles over the brown laminate countertop, leaving sudsy tracks after her. 

“My daughter was supposed to be in town this week, but had to cancel her trip due to some work complications.” She continued adjusting and refolding the knitted blanket draped over the leather couch positioned directly in the center of the now-visible living room. But there was a wink of disappointment that walked across the spoken lines. 

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Her hands wrung out the sponge and then were dried off on the freshly folded kitchen towel hanging off the sparkling stove. 

“It’s a complicated relationship.” Her neighbor's eyes morphed from aged, almond-shaped, blue eyes to squinty, slivers of oceans, decorated in delicate wrinkles as a forced motherly smile pulled at the thin lines of her lipstick-covered lips. 

“Well, I am glad I was able to help.” Her heart pulled at the center of her chest. She smiled back at the sweet elderly woman being earnest in her words. 

“Well you go home it’s late. Thanks again for your help.” Her neighbor looked at her little, gold watch resting on her wrist. 

Chapter 4

Her keys jingled in the lock, revealing a dark apartment with a small lamp illuminating her bedroom down the hall in gold. Her clock read 9:45 pm. And her refrigerator groaned in hunger as she walked over to it to reveal only some cheese, a bag of carrots, a carton of eggs, and a few other random items residing inside. She sat at her table with the cheese and some crackers. Her mind, and, now, body, felt drained. Her mind swirled while trying to catch up on her feelings. They pushed on the inside of her brain and begged to be set free. But, alas, the hum that rang through her empty apartment spoke loudly. She was a shoulder and a helping hand for others, but she didn’t want to burden anyone with how she felt. Her brain told her that her feelings were irrelevant, yet if she could make sure that others never felt that way and could make their lives a little easier... that would fill a hole she was slowly digging for herself. She just wanted someone to reach out and make her feel the way she hopefully helped others feel. She felt heavy and maybe a little forgotten. She was aware of the oxymoron that she bestowed upon herself. Wanting someone to reach out and let her know that she was seen, but also not wanting to add weight to someone else's shoulders. She wanted others to read her mind. To just know and be there for her like she tried to be for others. But, the thing was, no one is a mind reader. Sometimes it just takes vulnerability to ask someone to listen and confidence in knowing emotions are a two-way street. People want to be heard just as much as they want to feel as though they can help. So, while the cracker crumbs remained scattered on the table, she texted her therapist to schedule a session and then curled up on the couch, dialing her mom. 

Chapter 5

I feel so often, we bury our own feelings behind work, helping others, and becoming lost in a world of TV or a book. Hiding our feelings and struggles. Wanting someone to notice, but hiding behind “I’m fine”, and “don’t worry about it”. We wait for others to read our thoughts and reach out like we have done for others, but most of the time that’s not how it works. It works by building trust, letting our guard down, and not finding our identity in being everyone else's savior. Because frankly, that is not our job. If it’s a passion that’s different, but we can’t let it turn into thinking that that is also the reason that people keep us around. Relationships go both ways. It’s a fact that people like to feel needed. It can be hard depending on who you have around you, but finding someone, anyone who will make you feel seen and heard, is as important as it is for others to let go of their feelings.

This broad topic has been swirling around in my head for a while. I am very good at coming up with advice, but I have a hard time listening to it and frankly, this week is a week I need to listen to my own advice. Hopefully, you have been enjoying your week. And that you have an amazing weekend! Don’t forget to let me know what you think of this post, follow on Instagram, share The Allie-Way with someone, and subscribe to never miss a post. Thanks for reading, Allie-Cats!

• Dru  Allie