Confessions of a Former Do-Gooder
For years, I considered myself a switching center, a place where people in need could be matched up with solutions. I needed to be needed and took pleasure in urgent phone calls from strangers (some of whom had gotten my number from press articles, writers union meetings, the local librarian) as well as acquaintances and friends. Their confidence in my knowledge made me feel vital and valuable. I stored names and numbers in my ROLODEX; but on my mental computer, I stored various human competencies and idiosyncrasies, interesting people, local resources, and overheard trivia. Responses for questions about places to go ballroom dancing, movies to see, authors for local programs, drawing classes for children, the contents of a collaboration agreement, a typist for a writer's novel, copyright information... were usual fare for me. I ended most encounters satisfied that I had more than done my duty. I had justified breathing and taking up space on the earth.

The French say "Cherchez la femme" when trouble arises in paradise. For me, it was the man I married in mid-life. A man who adored me because I fit his dream image of the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. I struggled to stay emotionally lean and hungry, but he slowly stoked the furnace of my self-content, and fed my ego relentlessly. Now, eight years later, I accede to being sated. I no longer care to fathom the depths of the myriad needs of people I encounter. I no longer feel the need to prove myself every step of the way. No, I have not given up participating in the world, I just spend more time on developing my own dreams. God did not die and leave me in charge of the world, I often remind myself.

Now, I awake each morning and relish the day ahead as another opportunity to explore the world around me and the things in it that interest me. I can now turn the key, lock my front door and leave for my 9:30 am body sculpting class at my health club, while the phone rings in the background. Many mornings, I embark on a peaceful walk at the Valhalla Dam where I smile at strangers, marvel at new buds on the trees, or just daydream. Sometimes I even write songs. Never do I itemize the duties of the day.

I still work a few hours every day, write, spend time with other people's children (kids at a homeless shelter), send and receive e-mails (some of which I ignore until another day), call my friends and have spontaneous lunches with them. Sometimes, I even offer advice. However, the content of my advice now usually goes something like this: enjoy your life, it's better than you think it is. Try something new, it will lift you from the doldrums. Slow down and don't be so hard on yourself; you're already doing too much work. You may not achieve all of your dreams, but keep working at them -- but only if the work makes you happy.