How to Help – A Review

I was recently talking to a friend of mine about why I never wrote a blog about them. About why they’ve only been small asides and parentheticals, but never a subject. I told them it’s because our past isn’t something we need to air out, and our present is simply too pleasant to warrant discussion. But then I realized that’s not entirely true.

A lot of these blogs are modeled not on the great books or poems that I’ve read. They’re not based on the thousands of creative non-fiction, or personal reflective notes that I’ve digested. They’re not mirrored by any form of journalism or any standard literary medium, but rather the video essay.

This is a problem because my blog is decidedly never a video, and arguably not an essay (these truths are as of 10/27/18 at 8:38 PM). But what my blog really is… is kind of just me attempting to tap into what I think about. But the way I express those thoughts always comes out as conversational. But there is no conversation here, it’s just words on a page.

Its why older blogs would fall back to saying dear reader, and how lately, I’ve addressed “you” in particular (this does not relate to last week’s blog that was directed at a specific you, I am of course referring to you, the one reading this now).

When I get wrapped up in my thoughts, I generally have to talk about them. It’s the only way for me to get out of my head. Most of my blogs come from that place. A place where I feel like if I don’t get this on paper, I’m going to explode. But, sometimes, blogs need to be written for different reasons.

I don’t consider this platform anything more than what it exactly is. But it is still a platform, and there is good that can be done with any voice, especially one half an inch higher than the rest.

I’ve learned a lot on my own. Both academically and socially. I would say, most of the things that define me were found sitting behind a computer, or a book, alone in my room. That’s not necessarily a good thing or a bad thing, it’s just a thing.

But one virtue I’ve defined myself on, is how much I care. This can be a problem, if you allow yourself to care too much about others, you don’t end up caring for yourself. I’ve watched people go down that road, and they never come back the same.

I’d like to think, this thing, this focus on caring, this part of me, came from my own habits and thoughts and was developed naturally, but I learned it. I learned it over years. I’m still learning how to care correctly and effectively.

I think, on a fundamental level, caring is necessary. I can’t speak for you, and who you are, and what drives you. But I can speak for what works for me, what keeps me loving life, what makes me happy, is caring. Both caring that I do, and caring that is done to me.

When other people are happy, I always tend to find their root cause of it stems from how much they cared about someone or something, and then had a result because of that.

For my living memory, I know I’ve always cared. I might have pretended like I didn’t, I might have lashed out at people who I cared about because I didn’t understand how to show I cared, I might have even lied about caring, and made it seem like the way someone hurt me was fine. But I was always obsessed with how I could best help and best be helped by my surroundings.

The person who taught me to stop all that nonsense, and focus on the good, actually wrote a blog on here before. She’s always been extremely supportive of… well, everything I do. And for a while I thought it was just because we were friends, but ultimately, it’s clear she is supportive because she cares, and because she believes in me and what I can do.

Sometimes, you don’t realize you’re learning something until way later. And other times, you don’t realize what you’ve taught someone until they point it out to you.

Jessica taught me what it actually meant to care about someone. She supported me, by example, through all my headaches, my anxieties, and my depression. She didn’t “make sure” I did something, she gave me the tools to know I could do something, and would help with the steps along the way to get me there.

Most relationships fall through when you lose proximity, but not this one. There was an understandable gap in our conversation between graduation and the winter of last year. A lot of stuff happened to both of us during those months, and both of us changed for the better. I was more positive, despite being fired and losing someone who mattered a lot to me. She was too, but also more vocal of her own needs while still being the same supportive friend that I worked with and that I studied with for four years.

I’m lucky to have the friends that I do. All of them bring something to the table, even though that’s not why they’re my friends in the first place. And they also don’t expect anything from me, except that I do my best. Jessica was the first friend who I wasn’t afraid to let down, because I knew I couldn’t. Today, that’s true for almost everyone in my life, but most true for her. I know that, no matter what, she has my back. She’ll help me, try to understand the weird things my head does, and she’ll come to me if she needs help too.

I know that I can approach her and say “I don’t know why I’m having a bad day,” and she’ll do what she can to make it better. I can tell her that I relapsed on all the positive thinking and that I did something I’d regret in an hour, and she would tell me it’ll be okay. And then she’d check up on me, because to her, that’s important. Because to her, I’m important. And if that’s not one of the best feelings in the world? Then I don’t know what is.

Jessica, this one is to you. Wherever you end up, I know you’ll succeed. So, thank you for letting me bum so many rides while you get there.

Thanks for reading, and be sure to be vocal and tell someone how much you care about them today. It’s the least you can do to honor all that she does.