As we were leaving a hotel side door today, there was a homeless woman who wanted us to let her into the hotel. She wanted to sneak in and get food. We couldn’t let her in. My husband told her we were sorry, and we just kept walking by. I had to walk back by myself and my husband had me walk a different way.
I thought over and over again about that woman and wondered if there was anyway that I could do anything for her. It was my OCD. Yet as I kept thinking about it, I got a tightness in my chest, I wanted more than anything to be left alone and not have anything to do with anyone. The idea of helping someone who hasn’t asked for my help scares me to death. When I think of it in my head, they just get angry at me and they try to hurt me. I think there’s something wrong with me because I’m afraid to help others.
Then, I think about my family and I realize that I am having this horrible reaction because of how I grew up. They never wanted to show any weakness. If you offered to help, they wouldn’t let you help or they would pay you back. A great example was grocery shopping. My husband and I go grocery shopping every week. We offered to go for my parents. No matter what we said or did, they wouldn’t ever let us pay for the groceries, they insisted that they had to pay. When they got mad at me, they “punished” me by not letting me get groceries for them. My mom hasn’t let me help her with anything for the last five years of her life because she is upset that I didn’t rush to pick her up from the hospital at 6 a.m. even though she wasn’t discharged until 4:30 p.m. that day. They all use help as a means for control and manipulation instead of just a way to be nice to someone. When I think of helping someone else, I start to feel panic attack symptoms because I get scared that they are going to treat me the way my mother did.
It is so difficult to interact with people when your major interaction with someone has been painful, gaslighting, and manipulative. Whenever I think of going outside of my comfort zone, I just start to feel like I can’t breathe. My chest gets tight and my hands shake.
Yesterday, I went walking in a shopping district by myself and I did lots of things that scared me. I know I can face those demons. It just takes time and courage. I just hope that God has patience and understanding.
My faith saved me. May God’s peace reside in all of our hearts.
