Real Life. “I've Helped My Neighbors All My Life”: Now That I Need Help, Everyone Has Turned Away From Me

A few months ago I broke my hip.

I have tried to be a good person my whole life. I helped whenever I could – neighbors, friends, anyone who knocked on my door. When Mrs. Halina had problems with shopping, I was the one who brought her fresh bread every day. When Mr. Janek broke his leg, I spent months taking out the trash and bringing him water from the well. I never asked for anything in return. I believed that goodness returns, that in difficult times someone would give me a hand, just as I had given mine my whole life.

But now, when I really need help, I have discovered how wrong I was.

A few months ago I broke my hip. A simple accident – ​​I slipped on the stairs in front of the house. I ended up in hospital, where the doctors said it would be a long recovery. “You have to avoid exertion. Rest. But you'll get back to normal in time,” they assured me. I believed them. I thought I'd manage somehow. After all, I'm not completely alone – I have neighbors I've known for years, who always said I could count on them.

The first day back home was the hardest. I knew I wouldn’t be able to cook dinner or do the shopping by myself. I called Mrs. Halina, who always said I was like a sister to her.

– Halina, could you help me? I don’t have anything to eat at home, and I can’t go to the store by myself– I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

– Oh, Jadwiga, you know I'm always happy to help, but I've got so much on my mind today… Maybe tomorrow? – she replied quickly and said goodbye before I could say anything else.

The next day I tried Mr. Janek. I'd helped him so many times when he was in need. But he had an excuse, too.

– Mrs. Jadwiga, I'd love to do something, but you know, I have back problems now. It's better not to lift anything. Maybe someone else?

And so it went day after day, phone call after phone call, door after door – everyone suddenly had something more important to do. Some didn't even answer the phone, as if they were afraid I'd ask them for help.

At first I tried to explain it to myself. “Everyone has their own problems, their own life,” I thought. But with each passing day I felt more and more regret. Did my whole life, all that time I helped others, really mean nothing to them? Was my kindness convenient for them only when I was on my feet and not in a wheelchair?

Today, as I sit in an empty house, with an increasingly empty fridge, I ask myself: Was it really help or just an illusion? Did people help me because they wanted to, or because it suited them?

What hurts me the most is the realization that all my life I thought about others, and now there is no one who would think about me. Even those who always said I was like family to them disappeared the moment I stopped being useful to them.

Now I know that being a good person doesn't always mean that good will come back to us. Sometimes all that's left is loneliness and the bitter reflection that the people we've given everything to can turn their backs on us when we need them the most.

See what else we've written about in recent days: From Life. “My Husband Left Me After 40 Years of Marriage”: I Was Left Alone in an Empty House