I grew up wanting to save the world. Actually it wasn’t so much a “want” as an obligation.
Maybe it was 60’s idealism.
Or eldest child syndrome.
Or Catholic penance.
It might even be the Girl Scouts who, as a condition of my induction at age 7, made me promise “to help other people every day.”
When I see a problem, I feel obligated to fix it.
It didn’t take me long to figure out that saving the world is not a one-person job. I would have to scale back and save one person at a time. Whew, this was going to take a while.
Then I figured out you can’t actually save another person either, except in those rare instances when your superfluous kidney is an exact match for a dying someone.
To my surprise, I learned that most people don’t want to be saved. They are content, whether I approve or not. Go figure!
Some people do want to change. But they don't want to be saved. They just want a little help, a kind word, or a safe space while they solve their own problems.
There are some people who really do need to be saved. Children, mostly.
When you discover an adult who wants you to save them, beware. They usually have an infinite list of things they need to be saved from.
I don’t have that kind of time.
Saving the world one person at a time was going pretty slow. If only there was a way to help more than one person at a time. Maybe by sharing my own mistakes, I mean experiences.
Maybe publishing could speed things up a bit. When my superhero cape shrunk in the dryer, I knew it was time to take off my mask and sit down to write.
I wrote a series of self-help books for adults.
My children’s book grew out of watching my toddler granddaughter struggle with the realization that those of us who love her, don’t always feel exactly the same way she does.
But we still love her.
And both of our feelings are perfectly okay.
Her shock at this concept made me realize that other kids might be struggling with it too. So in our playtime, we invented Jess and Casey.
Then, I wrote a book.
Most recently, my helper-self met an aging dog in need of a good home. So the Huff Diary was born.
I got lucky with this one and he feels lucky to have me. We are learning from each other. Okay, I read a lot about senior rescue dogs. He just lives in the moment and draws my attention to things I might have missed while I had my nose in a book.
I suspect Huff sees me a “senior rescue human.” A human who had too much time on her hands, lived too much in her head, and had far too little pet dander in her home. He is working to solve all of those. Yes, a sense of humor is the first requirement for dealing with a rescue dog.
Maybe for dealing with life.
Really? The whole world? Go back to the beginning and re-read this page.
But if you are truly helper-minded, you can help support my work. Share this website. Share Huff’s Diary. There are nifty buttons at the bottom of the page to help you do this.
Buy one of my books! For yourself or as a gift for someone else. If you found it helpful, review book on your favorite reading site.
Give me a shout on the contact form and let me know what you are thinking, what you want to know more about, or share your best piece of advice.
I’ll check back later. Right now, I need to walk the dog. Or rather, Huff has decided that I have been sedentary in front of a computer screen for too long.
More Adventures with Huff
For the latest: See The Huff Diary