Selfish

I’ve been thinking a lot about what makes me happy. 

It turns out being needed makes me happy.  That probably sounds pretty obvious to a lot of people, and I will admit that it is pretty basic.  But sometimes the basic stuff can sneak up on you in new ways.

I’ve had several people turn to me for help in the last little while, each in their own different ways, each for their own different reasons.  And while I’m saddened by the fact that they are in such situations, it gives me no end of joy to be the one that these people turn to.

I like being someone my friends and family can rely on and turn to.  I like being trustworthy.  I especially like being helpful.

But ironically, it strikes me as more than a little selfish to feel that way.  Like it means I’m glad when people are in crappy spots where they need my help.

That’s not what I mean at all, obviously.  I guess what I do mean is that if people are going to be in not-so-great places I’m glad I’m at the top of their list of people to turn to.

The funny thing is, most people hate asking for help, myself included.  It’s not an easy thing to do.  I wonder how many people are like me when approached, though? How many of them are sitting there thinking

“I’m so very glad you felt you could come to me.  Thank you.”

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