Sit on my hands.

I’m not sure why I think I need to raise my hand when no one else does. Unsure why the uncomfortable silences bother me to the point where I, sheepishly, put my hand in the air and say, “Ok, I guess I can do it. I’ll help.”

We’ve all sat in rooms with groups of people where volunteers are needed. Typically, whoever is asking for the volunteer(s) isn’t wholly forthcoming about the amount of work entailed; the extra meetings and time required away from your life and that maybe it’ll not only cost you money in babysitters but also cost you sleeplessness and complaints from others who didn’t (guiltily) raise their hands. The smart ones, the ones who sit on their hands, take bathroom breaks, accept an incoming text or have more inner strength than I, have something I want. 

I guess if you sit on a board and are an active, knowing member of an organization, you’re asking for grief, at some point, because someone’s going to be unhappy eventually. If you’re actually calling the shots, actively planning changes that affect others, than it’s a different story. Rock the boat and sometimes you’ll fall in the lake. And sometimes the lake water will be messy and you might twist around long enough that the seaweed and lily pad stems pull you under. Maybe then you’ll realize the rocking wasn’t worth it and look up to realize there’s no one in your boat to pull you back in. Sit back down, balance and paddle carefully again. Yet someone’s always going to remember your splash and the seaweed might forever put a sour taste in your mouth.

vol·un·teer 1. a person who voluntarily offers himself or herself for a service or undertaking. 2. a person who performs a service willingly and without pay.

Volunteering is a precarious thing. But, it’s not a free donation because everything costs something. So since I’m broke on a few levels, I’m working on perfecting the art of sitting on my hands. It’s free and probably freeing.