Being helped
I absolutely hate needing to ask for help.
It's one of my great weaknesses in life. Not that I think getting help is weak, I mean my inability to accept it or ask for it.
Also, I'm not talking about being in a store and needing help from an employee. That I don't mind at all.
I'm talking about when I need help doing things for myself, mostly.
I mentioned a few posts back that I've been battling an unwanted critter in my house. Let's say the problem has yet to be solved.
And today that was sort of the final straw in a list of things that have gone wrong for me this weekend. It was already gearing up to be a stressful one: for one, I had a big event I was helping with organizing, but that mostly went well. Secondly, I had to finalize grades and get them submitted by midnight Saturday -- I made that cut off by about 30 minutes in a state of total exhaustion.
On the things that have gone wrong, however, the list was growing. I developed bronchitis thanks to the Kentucky spring pollen kicking off my allergies, which flared my asthma and spread. Then I had a dental issue. This was all on Saturday before the previously mentioned two things.
By Sunday evening, I was done.
Of course, that's not how life works. Because Monday rolls around, my bronchitis battle is continuing and exhausting me with every move. Literally, I barely walked two of the easiest dogs I have and after a few minutes in their yard, I needed to sit down.
I went to the store later that day to purchase a shelf. It was all I could do to carry it to the front of the store, something that should not have been difficult for me. Seeing a cart in the wild was some kind of answered prayer, so I didn't have to carry it any further.
But when I got home, I knew I was just too done to fight it. I asked my teen neighbor to carry it inside for me.
I hate being helpless. I HATE it.
Especially now. Especially as a widow, someone who doesn't have the luxury of having a second person in life to rely on.
It's so hard to admit you need help. It's hard to accept help, but it's even harder to admit you NEED it.
And this week, I've needed help. I have so much respect for those who have ongoing health issues that require them to need more help. I tip my proverbial hat to you folks, because you have a mental strength I do not possess.
I want to scream -- except the bronchitis impacts my throat. So that won't work either.
Last night late, I also realized my annoying little critter that hadn't been so noisy of late? It showed itself.
So that neighbor came back today and helped me carry boxes out that I'd been meaning to take to recycling and a bag for donations. Then I set about trying to clean any remnants I could find of my unwanted pest.
Safe to say, I had a little meltdown today while doing all that cleaning.
Why?
Because it's been a truly exhausting weekend -- a comedy of errors without the humor.
Because I am sick and emotional.
Because I'm tired of having to do things alone or "handle" things that Jim would have handled.
And because I HATE having to need help.
So I had a pity party.
Sometimes you need a pity party. Sometimes it's healthy and therapeutic to have a good cry. Like rain -- a cry can help. It can wash away the emotions you're feeling from all the pain and stress. (This might be a future post topic -- it's been on my mind a lot.)
There is release in crying. But it's easy to get hung up on how hard things are. That's part of what my pity party was about, I can tell you.
I didn't want to deal with this pest. I didn't want to have to handle it. I didn't want to clean up after it. I didn't want any of it.
But I'm not a magician and it didn't ask me before coming in my house. My dad came to try and set up some ways to catch it. So far it's evaded my attempts to drive it out of the house.
I didn't want to be sick and weak and feeling like I couldn't do things that I know I can normally do.
But my body is a little weak at times when my allergies flare and cause the cycle to start. I can't fix it. I can make an effort to prevent it next time, but I can't really control smokers or pollen. And for now, I can't do anything except take my medicine, rest, drink lots of fluids, and wait it out.
I don't want to deal with this dental issue. I've had to go through this several times in my life and I probably will again.
Admittedly, my analogy doesn't hold as well here, because I haven't taken the time or invested the money to really solve this particular problem. That and it's not a cheap fix. But I'm not perfect, people. What can I say? Sometimes I need my own advice worse than anyone.
Sometimes.
Sometimes life is just exhausting.
And sometimes we need a little help.
And that's OK.
"Accepting help is its own kind of strength." ~Kiera Cass
It's hard to accept. It's harder to admit. But sometimes we need help. And the people around us actually want to help.
That's something my therapist has reminded me of several times.
It's OK to accept help because people genuinely do want to help. They wouldn't offer if they weren't willing. And it gives them a way to be useful.
That's an explanation that I do understand. I like being helpful. I like being useful.
It's a little wild that a person who enjoys being a helper in so many ways has a hard time being helped.
Asking is hard. I'm trying guys. I'm really trying. I'm getting better at it, but I still tend to mask my ask with a directed statement of "I need someone to do this, do you know anyone?" in hopes they will say "I am that someone."
It rarely works. So I'm trying to get better at straight asking.
But, gosh, it's hard.
Why is that? I'm not sure. I guess I'm so used to being the person in the background doing things and helping that it's foreign to me to have to be the one on the receiving end.
I'm sure I'll be a terrible patient if, heaven forbid, I ever end up in the hospital. I had to go to the ER once several years ago and I was terrible at waiting. Honestly, if I had driven myself I'd have left long before I did. Well, if I thought my mom wouldn't drag me back inside. (I'm sorry nurses, on behalf of future me.)
Being a helper can be humbling and a blessing.
But needing help is truly humbling. Receiving the help, especially when you don't have to ask, but even when you do, is a blessing.
It's interesting how that cycle works. Giving and receiving -- both can be a blessing and both can provide a humility you need, if only you allow.
Even if you do need a pity party moment before you can accept it.
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