Foundation for Lasting Relationship

If I am honest with myself, the thing I complain about the most is not people, fate, or circumstances—it is my own habit of trying to help others and ending up with problems and financial losses. On the surface, this may sound like regret, but deep inside, it carries a much deeper message about who I am, how I relate to the world, and what I still need to learn about balance.

Helping others has always felt natural to me. When someone shares a difficulty, my first instinct is not to judge but to support. I offer time, advice, connections, and often money. I do so because I believe that life becomes meaningful when we lift one another. Especially when I see struggling students, friends in crisis, or families in need, my heart does not allow me to walk away. However, many times, this generosity has placed me in uncomfortable situations—unreturned loans, broken promises, emotional stress, and financial strain.

So why does this keep happening? One reason is that kindness often ignores calculation. When emotions guide decisions, logic takes a back seat. I trust easily because I want to see the good in people. I assume others carry the same sense of responsibility and gratitude that I do. Unfortunately, the world does not always function that way. Some people accept help sincerely, but others take advantage of it. When expectations are not met, disappointment follows, and that becomes the source of my complaint.

Another reason is that helping gives me a sense of purpose. There is a quiet joy in knowing that someone’s burden becomes lighter because of my involvement. Yet sometimes that joy blinds me to my own limits. I forget that I, too, have responsibilities, plans, and financial boundaries. Instead of asking, “Can I afford this?” I ask, “How can I help?” Over time, repeated sacrifices without protection turn into losses, and losses turn into frustration.

But behind my complaint lies a hidden message: it is not wrong to help, but it is dangerous to help without wisdom. My experiences are teaching me that generosity must walk alongside discernment. True kindness does not mean saying yes to everyone. It means knowing when to say no without guilt. It means helping in ways that do not destroy my own stability. If I collapse under the weight of others’ problems, I become unable to help anyone at all.

There is also a deeper personal lesson. My complaint reveals that I sometimes seek validation through service. I want to be useful, needed, and trusted. While these are noble desires, they should not push me into neglecting myself. The hidden message is clear: self-respect is as important as compassion. I must value my own time, energy, and finances as much as I value the struggles of others.

In conclusion, what I complain about the most—helping others and falling into problems—is actually a quiet teacher in disguise. It reminds me to balance heart with mind, generosity with boundaries, and kindness with self-care. Helping others is a beautiful habit, but helping wisely is what turns good intentions into lasting good.

Saviour Shanthalal Hettiarachchi