One of the lessons in Charles Fillmore’s book “Keep a True Lent” states: “I . . . use a portion of my zeal in establishing God’s kingdom within me. I do not put all my enthusiasm into helping others; my own unfoldment is of great importance to me. I love to aid my brother, but I do not allow that idea to rob me of the power to demonstrate Truth for myself.”
According to my 2004 journal, I used to be The Helper. Even while taking care of my mother who had Alzheimer’s, I was The Fixer at work, a mentor to young cousins, a mediator for warring couples, the person to whom others brought their vents, dramas, and traumas. I ran errands for a friend whose husband had a massive heart attack. My own life was full of stress and unhappiness.
A friend asked, “Why do you get so involved in other people’s lives?” Especially at work, she thought I consistently tried to solve deficiencies that were not my responsibility. Why didn’t I put my energies towards resolving my own issues and becoming what I want to be instead of focusing on external conditions?
I began to look at family and societal patterns. Most of the women I knew growing up were self-sacrificial. My role models helped others to the point of sacrifice. It’s what a woman did. It was the right thing to do. I didn’t see women treating themselves to personal joys. The female was expected to care for someone other than herself. Happiness was dependent upon bringing joy to husbands, children, other family members, and the church. The focus was always on the external. It was selfish to do for self. Joy and satisfaction came from doing for others. This was an obligation. My childhood prayer was “God loves the cheerful giver.”