Self-Help Is Better Help in the Form of Heart-Gripping Narrative
We win others over in the word of our testimony when we get over ourselves.
I believe we will soon come to a point where the “self-help” needs to be wrapped in a wonderful narrative.
Instead of instructional information being so step-by-step, directional based (which don’t get me wrong, that does have it’s place), it will be cleverly crafted in a story.
It’s why I’m a huge fan of the Bible as the lessons of life aren’t always “don’t do this, or shouldn’t do that,” but carefully placed in the form of illustrations, anecdotes, flashbacks, and more.
In essence, the best self-help isn’t about self at all.
When we focus on solving the problems of others authentically, it eradicates our own personal dilemmas.
I’m guilty of being self-indulgent with 50% of my mental well-being obsessing over weight issues, entering a mid-life crisis…
Hell, do I still got it. Honestly, in my opinion it’s a big waste of time.
I often win escaping my own demons when I help another person exorcise their own. This sort of “exorcism” provides a life ROI I either see immediately or in the future, God blessing me to see the fruits of the occurrence.
Then of course, all credit goes to the Higher Power.
Here’s a brief story off the top of my dome. See whatever “self-help” you want to.
She believed every excuse in the book about her life. “You don’t fit Instagram standards.” “Your dad wasn’t around, so kiss success good-bye.”
Living a small distance from her was a prescription bottle containing contents that could both enhance or depress life, dependent on the quantity.
She lived excessively so why not indulge in brief excess?
As her find fingers stretched out warming up to grip the bottle, her mother walked in unaware that she was trading one tragedy for another: “We gotta hurry to the hospital.”
“What happened?”
“It’s your sister. She…she..”
Immediately dismissing her own issues, her opened hand turns to grab a jacket — also a security blanket that frequently covered the insecurities she felt about her body.
Speed limits were non-existent and for some reason, so was law enforcement, as if God Himself put His finger to the pavement to prevent interruptions.
They made it with a second to spare as her sister was moved to intensive care.
“Is she alright nurse?”
“She will be. She has some broken ribs, but she will be fine. The accident could have been more fatal than expected. You’re allowed to go in and see her.”
She only could think about the wonderful moments they spent together as siblings. They argued about boyfriends, and fussed about teenage pettiness, but in the end, she was grateful to have such a loving sister.
She held her hand reflecting on life; praying that her sister is back to normal so life can feel normal again.
A month later the same prescription bottle that almost ended one life aided in healing fractured ribs caused by a corrupted collision.
In that time, a mind poisoned in self-consumption and unwarranted issues slowly was cured through the serum of sibling salvation.
The end, naturally. Ya’ll let me know if there were any grammatical errors in this “response.” I’m too lazy to check as I self-indulgently hit publish and return to my mental prison.
