Whether teen, queen, or in-between, some people need us to intervene. Sadly, though, some have mastered the art of Intervention Circumvention. (Most of us learn this technique in our youth. I know: I did it. …But some people seem to take longer to outgrow it.)
How do we help the helpless—when they don’t know they need help? Desperate times call for desperate measures? Maybe. But some souls are stubborn: You get involved, but nothing’s solved. They talk~tweak~and twirl till everything’s awhirl. To them, intervention is interference. They wear you down; then they tear you down. They want their way, they invite others to play, and then—you go away.
Failure is very deflating. But take heart: even mediocre interventions strike a chord. Why else do you think they’re not speaking to you? “The truth hurts.” I learned that from my obnoxious step-father. But ‘no sense throwing out the baby with the bathwater; he was right. (Ironically, he’s one of those that shut me out. Go figure.) It’s the oldest story in the Book: the first family tried to shut out God. (I, for one, am glad that turned out to be impossible.)
When somebody’s on the wrong path, and we shed light, their knee-jerk reaction is to change the light bulb. Then they hold a crusade to steer everyone clear of those old light bulbs: they’re too harsh; too expensive; possibly carcinogenic. Eventually, the life of the new light bulb ebbs out. Someone discovers the first bulbs still work, but then they remember: possible toxicity. So the talking~tweaking~and twirling continue—in twilight. Any time efficient bulbs are recommended, they’ll be rejected as well; eventually, they’re downright nocturnal.
Whatever the problem that needs attention—anxiety, addiction, exploitation—the problem remains, because the most qualified helpers have been sent packing. Intervention Circumvention leaves no place for brutal, bright light. If they want to keep their status quo, better to eke out an existence with a few dim bulbs.