Odd manifestation of something I can only assume is kind of genetic

Here's something that you almost certainly don't know about me, but my dad's family is full of one-time missionaries. I say "one-time" as they're pretty much all dead, seeing as my dad's mum was the youngest of all her siblings, and waited until she was pushing 40 to have him. He's 61. It's not like they died young, but there's no need to be morbid here. I'm just saying. Call it "background", I guess.

Anyway, my great-grandfather was a Baptist minister, and be brought up many of his children in much the same manner he was. That is to say, going to church at least 3 or 4 times a week (often more), and giving of yourself to do God's work. Just about all of my great aunts/uncles and possibly even my grandmother spent time in Africa, and while looking back at that era, one could certainly argue that they were a little presumptuous about who was "right" as far as religion and such goes, I can't help but think that their hearts were in the right place.

Now, my dad was brought up knowing not much more than this. He went through the whole several days a week in church thing, but showing a certain aptitude in his schooling that his father had shown, he ended up taking advantage and going to university (unlike his dad who actually gave up on a university scholarship in England to come to Canada).

So, not having the forum his family had in the past of either the pulpit or missionary work, my dad developed a certain attitude towards helping people in any way he could. Never short on a helping hand, or an open ear, he tried to help his fellow (wo)man in any way he could. Eventually, as times change and people became less receptive, I think he became more jaded and thus reached out less. He will always be there when you need him, but apart from family and close friends, he tends not to offer blind help like he once did. I guess you can say that modern society can only burn you so many times before you refuse to let yourself get burned again.

Now, seeing as my mum is probably one of the most genuinely nice people you can ever meet (it took almost 35 years in the public school board for her to even become slightly jaded... and even then, it was only once she was in the principal's role and didn't get to do what she liked best anymore, which was to actually teach the kids), you'd think that combined with the seeming inherent helpfulness from my dad's side of the family, it would bode well for me. After all, doesn't genetics play a certain role in almost every aspect of us?

Well, it seems that I turned out painfully shy for about the 16 or 18 years of my life. I'm not kidding. If you've met me since university, you probably don't believe me, anyway. But moving on....

This shyness, I think, kind of kept me from opening up to people in a way that I could actually let the missionary side of me care enough to help. However, I think I ended up going too far.

Much like my dad, I tended to save myself for helping family and friends. I hope that anyone close to me knows that there isn't a whole lot I wouldn't do for them.... but then I had my "flying too close to the sun" moment. I'm just glad that I was able to survive, but to suggest that it was (is?) unscathed would just be lying to myself.

I made the foolhardy mistake of falling for someone who, seemingly, was crying out for help. I wanted nothing more in this world than to help her... but it never seemed like anything was enough. The more I helped, the more she needed. I eventually had to turn away from her at, arguably, her darkest hour just to save myself. I never thought I was capable of turning my heart quite that cold, but you never know what you are capable of when you are pushed to the limit.

The only comfort I get is that I know that she's okay now. If she wasn't, I'm not sure I could live with myself. And I have no idea what that actually says about me.