In an attempt to complicate my life unnecessarily, I found myself scrolling through Reddit instead of focusing on my actual job.

(You know, the one for which I receive a paycheck and am qualified, yet I often fill my working hours with distractions and then complain about my overwhelming workload.)

One post caught my attention, where a Reddit user shared her frustrations regarding her overly helpful boyfriend, who ended up upsetting her blind sister-in-law. Despite her warnings for him not to “help” during their visit, her boyfriend—let's refer to him as SHB for brevity—didn’t heed her advice.

She had expressed concern because his identity revolved around being excessively helpful, often offering unsolicited advice. She anticipated that he would struggle to refrain from treating her sister-in-law like someone in need of charity.

She clearly conveyed that her brother and his wife had their own established routines and did not require assistance in the kitchen. She reassured SHB that if her sister-in-law needed help, she would ask for it, eliminating the need for his unsolicited interference.

However, SHB disregarded her warnings. As her sister-in-law prepared a meal, he began to “help” by pointing out where the salt was, cautioning her against burns, and even interrupting when she asked her husband for assistance.

This understandably frustrated her brother and sister-in-law, prompting them to politely ask SHB to cease his interference. They reiterated what his girlfriend had stated earlier: they did not need help, it made them uncomfortable, and they would ask if they required assistance.

Naturally, this led to SHB becoming angry. After all, he believed he was merely trying to help—how could that possibly be seen as negative?

I can't recall the specifics of how the situation escalated, but the evening ended prematurely when the brother and sister-in-law insisted SHB leave. The woman sided with her family, leaving with a furious SHB in tow.

He was upset with her for not defending him when her brother removed him from the situation, and she later sought validation on Reddit regarding whether she was in the wrong.

Unsurprisingly, the Reddit community rallied in her support, agreeing that SHB had clearly overstepped his boundaries. Despite being informed of the limitations beforehand, he continued to instruct a blind woman in her own kitchen.

Amidst the comments, one particular remark struck me deeply:

“Help is the sunny side of control.”

This succinct, poignant statement resonated with me profoundly.

I have always felt uneasy about excessively helpful individuals who act as if they are saviors, ready to rectify every flaw in others' lives. However, this quote encapsulated my feelings perfectly.

Years ago, I invested countless hours rewatching the TV series Lost, convinced that I had missed vital plot details. The final season left me perplexed, leading me to believe I simply lacked the intelligence to grasp the intricate storylines.

Upon my second viewing, I realized that my confusion stemmed not from a lack of intellect but rather from poor writing. Understanding the plot did not require extraordinary intelligence; it was simply a case of subpar storytelling masquerading as profound and clever.

This disillusionment mirrored my experience of a climactic battle scene in one of the Twilight films, only to discover that it was merely a figment of Alice's imagination.

Forget that.

(While many criticize the Twilight series for its writing flaws, I argue that Lost was worse; at least Twilight doesn’t pretend to be intellectually stimulating, boasts a better soundtrack, and features genuine vampires and werewolves instead of a nonsensical smoke monster.)

Despite my lingering resentment towards the Lost writers, I admired the character John Locke, who, after becoming wheelchair-bound, despised being perceived as dependent or helpless. Though justified in his anger toward unsolicited help, he occasionally failed to acknowledge the limitations imposed by society's lack of accessibility for wheelchair users.

Whenever someone sought to undermine John Locke’s capabilities, he would assertively declare, “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!”

This became particularly ironic when he attempted a walkabout in the Australian outback and lashed out at a tour guide for stating that the terrain wasn't wheelchair accessible.

Whenever someone offers me unsolicited advice or attempts to help, my inner John Locke emerges, urging, “Don’t tell me what I can’t do.”

For me, most help translates to a patronizing message: “I see you trying to accomplish X, but I believe you can't. Let me assist you since I am better at X.”

(Yes, I recognize this reflects more on my personal growth than on the intentions of helpful individuals, but I am working on it.)

It wasn't until I encountered that Reddit comment that I truly recognized my aversion to help masked as control. The quote appears to originate from a 2017 TED Talk by Anne Lamott, who asserts:

“Almost nothing external will provide lasting help unless you're awaiting an organ transplant. We can’t arrange peace or sustainable improvement for those we care about. They must discover their paths and solutions. You can’t pursue your adult children with sunscreen and ChapStick on their heroic journeys. You have to let them go. It’s disrespectful not to. Additionally, if it’s someone else’s problem, you likely don’t have the solution anyway.”

I wholeheartedly concur with these sentiments. Individuals need the freedom to navigate their own journeys and grow at their own pace. Moreover, I don’t want unsolicited help from those who haven't figured their lives out.

As Lamott emphasizes in her TED Talk, “Our help is often not helpful; it can be toxic. Help is the sunny side of control. Stop helping excessively. Don’t impose your help and goodness on everyone.”

I especially appreciate Lamott's description of unsolicited assistance as “getting your help and goodness all over everybody,” because that’s precisely how it feels when someone attempts to help me. It feels intrusive, sticky—like a mess I didn’t ask for.

If your “help” means dictating how I should live my life, I don’t need it, thank you very much. Your desire to control me, the situation, or your perception of how life ought to be is unwelcome. I intend to navigate my own path, even if I stumble along the way.

Does this imply that all help is detrimental? Does it mean that anyone who “just wants to help” is a controlling savior stripping away autonomy? Absolutely not.

Not every instance of unsolicited assistance stems from a desire for control. Some genuinely wish to help without ulterior motives, unaware that their actions may come off as controlling. It’s essential to consider people's intentions and behaviors rather than assume their motivations when evaluating help.

Even though society can often be unkind, I remain convinced that most individuals have good intentions. Yet, even with the best intentions, if assistance is offered at an inappropriate time or manner, the consequences can be damaging.

When help is rooted in a desire to control the situation or the person receiving assistance, it conveys a lack of trust in their abilities. It suggests that we believe they can't achieve happiness until they resolve their issues according to our preferences. Thus, our help often serves our own interests, as we try to ‘fix’ others simply to feel better ourselves.

This is why SHB's actions were offensive to the blind woman and her husband. He essentially communicated, “You lack the skills to prepare a meal in your own kitchen, so I'll step in. Even though I've been told that you'll ask for help if needed, I will intervene whenever I wish because you won't manage without me.”

He wasn’t being helpful; he was being controlling.

Desiring to control a situation isn’t inherently negative. SHB likely aimed to protect the woman from accidents or burns, overlooking the fact that she and her husband regularly cooked and were well-acquainted with their kitchen.

Sure, accidents can happen—even to those without disabilities—but that’s part of life.

This is the discomfort I feel when people are overly assertive with their unsolicited help or advice. Yes, I might drop a knife on my foot at some point, but it’s not your responsibility to prevent that. Mind your business; I'll handle mine.

Does this mean we should never assist others and let them drown if they can't ask for help? Certainly not. Our evolution as a species is rooted in our capacity to help one another.

As the renowned anthropologist Margaret Mead pointed out, “The evidence of the earliest true civilization isn’t clay pots, iron tools, or domesticated plants, but a healed femur.”

A healed femur signifies that someone aided that individual, allowing them to survive and thrive despite their injury, rather than abandoning them to fend for themselves.

To truly be helpful, we need to ensure that the person genuinely wants our assistance. This demonstrates respect for their autonomy and agency. Consent signifies that the individual has willingly accepted our help, allowing them to retain control over their circumstances. When help is offered without consent, it can lead to feelings of disempowerment or resentment, even if the intentions behind the offer are positive.

Requesting consent is particularly crucial in situations where the help may be perceived as invasive or infringing upon someone's privacy or bodily autonomy. For instance, seeking permission before offering a hug or physical support is vital. By asking for consent, we convey that we value the other person's feelings and opinions, giving them the option to decline if they prefer.

As someone who can be overly assertive in my advice, I've been making an effort to ask for consent rather than issuing directives. It feels a bit awkward, but so far, everyone has appreciated this approach. Only a few have declined my suggestions, indicating they needed to be heard instead. Consequently, I’ve focused on listening.

I’m also learning to inquire about the type of assistance people desire. Generally, individuals know what is best for them and how they can improve their well-being. Perhaps they don’t require my insightful analysis, but a simple visit with a homemade meal could alleviate some of their burdens.

While I still make mistakes occasionally, like everyone else, I continue to grow.

Ultimately, that’s the key takeaway here: we are all imperfect. Our attempts to do good can sometimes backfire. Yet, in the end, when you're hiding from a saber-toothed tiger, writhing in pain from a broken femur, someone will come to your aid.

They might take you to the wrong place, assume they know better than you, and prepare a meal you don’t enjoy, but you’ll survive.

And if your femur has healed and they remain unbearable… just walk away. Life is too short to be surrounded by those who fail to respect your autonomy and boundaries.