This post may be triggering for its mention and description of depression.
I think the propensity to help people is a natural part of me, but the validation I feel from giving is not necessarily fully healthy. That’s something I’m still working on. I felt the most validated when Mark was sick. Because I was NEEDED. Doctors thought it was because of his death that I was depressed. I was the happiest when I had him to take care of, because my problems all went to the back burner and I could fixate on someone and something else. I went through a little bit of a baby craze for that same reason. I was in the middle of school but wanted a baby because I felt as though I lost meaning in life. I wanted it so that I would have a reason to wake up in the morning, to try harder throughout my day, not to eat everything in sight because well why not?
Through counselling I figured out that I just needed something helpless to need me again and that made me sad and almost sick. I would ruin my life if I did that. Not that I wouldn’t love it or have a happy life with a baby, but I would never forgive myself for having it on those pretences. So that desire was lost pretty quickly.
I’ve learned to put that nurturing energy into massage and it’s showing. It’s hard for me to accept compliments, and I’ve had several in the last few weeks even. I had no idea that my peers and teachers thought so highly of me and can see something in me that I’m still struggling to see. I’ve been told that I am a good teacher so many times that I can’t ignore it anymore. I feel like I may have found my calling.
It’s hard not to be all ethereal about this, but I feel like I’m “supposed” to do this for people. It’s a facet to that helping people compulsion I have. It’s like an itch I need to scratch. Almost an addiction.