There are some people who are beyond help. Helpless not from lack of intellect, or ability, but from a gumption deficiency (GD) that transcends basic laziness. I’m familiar with a few people who are downtrodden by the affliction, men and women alike, who will not get out of their own way.
Procrastination is a common symptom of GD, as is chronic woe-is-me and incurable manipulation. Gumption deficiency ruins perfectly good lives. Like drugs, it can cause a vacant, drooling stare, usually directed at daytime TV. Often there is associated sloth accompanied by dirty laundry and spotty employment history.
There is no known cure. Kind, constructive criticism is ineffective and snarky comments may exacerbate an underlying insecurity which can develop into paranoia. Hunger and homelessness does not inspire change in behavior patterns either. In most instances, it isn’t a case of can’t as much as it is a condition of won’t.
I live a simple life because I have no desire to put up with any of the bullshit that comes with buckets of money. Simplicity controls my waste and litter phobia; casual mention of space junk initiates a catatonic inertia. Enough about me and my illnesses. The point is, I feel guilty whenever I am around those afflicted by GD because I have a happy little life that I work very hard for.
It doesn’t seem like I’m an enabler but every once in a while, especially in winter, I can’t stop myself from providing in some small way for the afflicted. Usually it’s groceries, sometimes it’s cash or an outing, once it was funeral expenses. It bothers me that someone I know may be hungry when I’m eating. I wonder if they’d be worried if I were hungry or if they lack the gumption to care.