Who Is My Neighbor?

 My word for the year is Expand. 

Like most turtles, when I get nervous, I pull in. I bite when I get cornered. I've been very nervous in the last decade. This is the year I try again to be social, even though it rarely lasts and rarely provides whatever it is I think I'm supposed to be getting. Maybe that's the sociopath thing getting in the way. 

I was told of a young person who got a third job and needed a dog sitter while she rearranged her schedules. I was reluctant. My Turtle brain saw all the ways it could go wrong. I remembered Expand and offered to help. 

Yes, it turned into a compost storm. After the fifth change of plans in two days, I quit. I wasn't being paid. I rearranged my own schedule four times to accommodate. I even spent 30 minutes convincing her I could do it. Read: I became temporarily insane. No one should have to convince someone to accept help that is obviously needed to everyone except the person who needs it. 

Am I wrong? I don't care. I'm an emotional wreck. This is exactly why I left foster care case management. I am constitutionally incapable of enduring chaotic people. 

So who is my neighbor? What is my God-given responsibility to help others? We have The Good Samaritan but how far does that story go? If the robbed man was permanently crippled, was the Samaritan responsible for him the rest of his life? Or just until he was healed enough to beg? 

When is helping enabling? This young person, in my formerly professional opinion, needs help I am trained but not licensed to provide. There's a reason AA waits for moments of clarity, even when they don't come. There's no helping someone who cannot recognize help. 

I will add her to my prayer walk, a thing I intend to write about next because it has been an amazing addition to my life both physically and spiritually. My heart breaks for her and her family. But I cannot be the kind of neighbor I thought she needed. 

It has been one hour since I walked away and my heart rate has dropped, my innards have settled and my matcha tea with honey tastes good again. The weekend plans I completely suspended two days ago are back on. 

I'm sorry, Lord, if I failed the test. It's not the first time and it won't be the last. 

Keep the faith.