When helping hurts

 

Do you have people in your life who no matter how much you do for them they are never satisfied and it seems impossible to make them happy?  If so, maybe it’s time to slow your roll and reflect on your actual role -- consider resisting the temptation to swoop in and save the day because strangely enough, doing too much for some people can make matters worse.  

It sounds cynical, but it seems the warning about “biting the hand that feeds you” has some teeth to it since certain people not only neglect to show appreciation, they appear to be resentful after being helped.  Maybe there’s something to the old saying, no good deed goes unpunished.   

It’s interesting how quickly people forget about being supported through a tough time -- it seems like they are ungrateful, even bitter afterwards.  Too often helpers set themselves up for disappointment, yet the reality is, it’s quite possible that these very same people would have mistreated their helpers eventually, perhaps it’s delusional thinking that just because someone is helpful they should be immune to misbehavior.

Some people seem to feel worse about themselves or lose self confidence when anyone does too much for them -- doing good for certain people makes them feel bad about themselves because they doubt their own abilities or competency.  Shielding people from the pain of their consequences or from their struggles too much can handicap them mentally & emotionally which is a hard lesson for people who feel the need to rescue or protect the people they care about most.  

How can helpers find a better balance in their efforts to be supportive without harming those in need or risk being hurt in the process themselves? If someone focuses on the bad they become bitter, if they focus on the good they do for others they might come to expect more than they should, but if helpers focus on their responsibilities and what they are able to do right they might just find satisfaction — maybe this is partially what Jesus had in mind when Jesus said something about not letting your left hand know what your right hand is doing when helping the needy? 

This fine line between helping and harming those we care about feels like trying to paint a portrait on the surface of a running creek.  When you help people who don’t really want to be helped, when you want better results for them than they want for themselves, or if you want their healing more than they want it, then it becomes unhealthy and it backfires.  

None of us want to feel like we are takers, so being more proactive in expressing our own gratitude to those who help us out in our times of need is vital and certainly we all at one time or another need help.  Recognize, we are responsible to other people but we are not responsible for other people, so assist those who want a hand up not a hand out, the ones who want to become more capable but not to be coddled, support the ones who with the right help can go on to helping others themselves when the time comes.   

Pressure

 

Not that being understood is the goal to pursue in life, but few people will ever understand the pressure of pumping concrete.  It's better to understand than to be understood, so pumpers know what I'm talking about.  How could the typical person wrap their mind around what we do, how could you explain it in a way they could possibly comprehend it and not sound insane?  

Every day has the potential to destroy you in the world of concrete pumping, and not just physically.  From hidden hydraulic leaks to clogged hoses plugged with who knows what and who knows where, from recirculating hot loads while worrying about concrete flashing in your hopper to waiting on a balance/call back truck, from scheduling and rescheduling with contractors who are poor managers of their time and based off of their poor planning who think nothing of wasting your time, from trying to get to the second or third job on time, from dealing with extreme weather conditions, from finding the jobsite in the dark and then finding somewhere to washout and hoping you have enough water, to the actual physical exertion and strain on our bodies, we work under so much pressure it's no mystery why self-harm haunts our industry.  

Who else risks life and limb every time they walk out the front door the way we do?  Pumping can leave you bruised, bloodied, and broken on any given day, you'll learn quickly to respect the high pressure of the hoses long before you recognize the toll the pressure can take on you.  We operate expensive equipment that takes an immense amount of common sense and knowhow to run, and it is far from safe nor is it easy.  Learning to prime out, maintain, clean out, understanding mix designs, while managing the dangers of the job, and how to set up & break down your system efficiently and be effective is no easy task.

The responsibilities, problems, and challenges of pumping are wholistic, involving the entire mind, body, and soul.  It's a daily gamble that we take, hoping and praying that all will go well and we will return home at the end of the day just to hit the bed so we can get up early and work the crazy hours we do, all over again.  

The scars of our fathers

 

I don't post a lot of material on my parents, but today would've been my dad's 86th birthday and it got me to thinking.  My dad was masterful at allowing people see what he wanted them to see in him.  He wanted people to think he was successful and that he was a good person.  He was a personality that loved telling big stories and he thrived on getting attention from his audiences, which is probably why I never acknowledged his passing in 2019 on social media and told very few people of his death.  As petty as it sounds, I simply didn't want any more of his lust for attentions to be fed, even after the grave.  

So why am I talking about him now?  Bear with me.

While my dad erected a fancy facade fabricated on fantasy, portraying himself as a committed family man and an expert on relationships, the the reality was he prone to wander.  Dad was very worried about appearances and did his best to impress his friends and extended family, but the depth of his concern on home front was another story.  

He would go away for months at a time and leave us to fend for ourselves, it was common for him to leave on the road driving his semi for several weeks in a row without returning home or sending any money home, once he was gone for a three month stint.  He would simply park his truck, whenever he felt like it and live his carefree life.  For example he would visit ranches, end up staying there for weeks helping them bring in their herds for brandings or to go to auction.  He did what he wanted when he wanted, and apparently forgot about his family at home.  Once he joined up with a documentary production crew to film wild mustangs in the desert, again while we sat back home with no groceries in the house or money to pay our bills.

It stings to this day, and I can see now that much of the acting out I did in school and the trouble I got into, and my run-ins with the law were a direct result of my father's distance, not being there when I needed him to be, to hear him say that he loved us but then to neglect us. 

In fact, when Tammy and I were getting married, dad was living in California with another woman while he was still married to my mom.  I called and asked him to come to the wedding, and to be my best man.  Why?  I still loved him, nearly idolized him.  He was my childhood hero, he could do no wrong, as a child I chalked up his absenteeism as part of the deal.  I didn't realize the void he would leave, the insecurity, the bitterness, the resentment he was generating in my soul, the scars he was leaving on my heart and soul.

My guess is he never realized his selfish nature or the damage he unintentionally inflicted.  Today there's a popular word for his personality type, a narcissist.  

The scars of my father made me want to be a more conscientious parent, I won't claim to be perfect, but I can claim I tried to be present and purposeful.  My dad missed Christmases, holidays, and major blocks of time with us, I wanted to be different.  Actually he never changed even into his latter years he even neglected to attend our oldest son's wedding.  I'm sure my children and grandchildren will judge me based on how well I lived up to my commitments, I hope not too harshly, and I hope the scars I leave behind will be thinner and smaller than those I have.  

We can hope to be better than our upbringing and we can talk a big talk, but it is our actions that will speak louder than our words.   Why bring up my disappointments with my dad?  There is a cautionary tale in the old song, Cat's in the cradle, hopefully more people will heed its warning, there is no rewind on the clock and the time flies by quicker than we realize.  Our kids deserve to be hugged, loved on, encouraged, uplifted, shaped, guided and developed, and to receive quality time from us, not just when it's convenient for us as parents.