We learn as we grow — or rather, we unlearn. Help is a gift until it becomes a burden.
I’ve been there too; that reflex to analyze, wanting to be useful, only to realize I was overreaching.
I wanted to come up with a solution for them, but in hindsight, it was almost like I was trying to manage their life for them — telling them they should do this or that, as if they’d handed over the permission to run their life just because they chose to open up to me.
I crossed the line. My instinctive intention became an inadvertent intrusion.
I became a nuisance they were likely too polite to name — so they had to manage their own crisis while quietly tolerating me.
I was a major pain in the neck; my actions became an unnecessary burden for them to carry when all they needed was to be heard.
I broke a silent trust. I cannot blame anyone if the dynamic shifted—if they chose distance.
My apologies if I was ever presumptuous and overreached — when all you wanted was a pair of listening ears, not unsolicited interference.
I am sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable.
Photo by Casey Thiebeau on Unsplash
©Britt H.
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Hello, I'm Britt, the person behind the writings you'll find here.
While I can't promise a constant stream of exclusive content, I can promise to consolidate my often scattered, writing portfolio right here on BMC. Think of this as the dedicated home for all my work. Please note, this process might take time, depending on my daily condition.
For me, writing isn't just my craft; it's my sole way of working. As someone navigating multiple chronic illnesses with frequent medical treatments at various hospitals and clinics, my routine often leaves me with little energy or capacity for much else.
As an autistic individual with a severe anxiety disorder, holding a conventional job is almost an impossible feat—a sad reality that is a stark contrast to how I used to be able to function. These days, even an unexpected phone call can throw me into disarray, let alone stepping out the door.
Despite these immense challenges, they have, unexpectedly, opened new doors. In a way, being chronically ill has been a blessing in disguise, granting me the space and courage to pursue writing.
You could say I'm an unknown and perpetually poor writer (not everyone can be J.K. Rowling!).
I juggle inconsistent odd remote jobs alongside the limited income my writing generates on different platforms.
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