Asking for Help
Last week I had a vile stomach flu attack that left me feeling so bad that I called my friend at 6:30 in the morning, fearful for my own well-being. Eleven years ago I was hospitalized with colitis, and this time I felt almost as ill.
I’ve lived on my own for some time now. My ex and I separated in January ’96 and divorced almost two years later. My sons lived mostly with me, then my younger one finally left for good some 16 months ago. It’s been just me and the dog since then. There have been celebratory periods of independence and personal strength as well as times of intense loneliness. But I always was able to “do” for myself. I took care of what needed to be taken care of. I grew very accustomed to not asking for help with anything, although there were times people did offer and I did accept. Other times, when I asked for help because I thought I should, and it was promised, for various reasons it didn’t come through, but still I managed. I could cope, even though sometimes it was very tough.
Last Thursday morning was different. I felt utterly weakened and unable to make appropriate decisions for my own health and safety. I had spent the night acutely ill (I don’t need to share the details) and by morning my mental health as well as physical health was compromised. It left me feeling very vulnerable and rather frightened. I literally didn’t know what to do. I realized that I had no alternative but to ask for help. Lying on the couch, barely able to move, I called my friend. She rode to the rescue. We agreed that I should call the doctor when his office opened, and he prescribed medication. She picked it up and brought it over, along with gallons of Gatorade. I sent a brief, miserable e-mail to my lover, who called me with care and concern as soon as he read it. Within 24 hours, I was on the mend, and I am now almost recovered.
This has been a learning experience. Sometimes I can’t cope by myself. Sometimes I have to concede that I need help. It’s hard. There are many childhood connotations for me – I was not used to getting help and support, so it still feels wrong to ask for or expect it. I’m working on it. There are now people in my life who give it very willingly, and I feel very lucky and blessed to have them, yet still it feels wrong to “impose” even on those who care about me. But I have to recognize that it’s ok to have needs and to ask for help in meeting them. After all, I am always very happy and willing to help others. Somehow it is much easier that way round. As ever, living a healthy and balanced life is a work in progress, and that is something else I have to accept. I guess we never stop learning. Which is good. Growth is good. And so is asking for and accepting help.
I’ve lived on my own for some time now. My ex and I separated in January ’96 and divorced almost two years later. My sons lived mostly with me, then my younger one finally left for good some 16 months ago. It’s been just me and the dog since then. There have been celebratory periods of independence and personal strength as well as times of intense loneliness. But I always was able to “do” for myself. I took care of what needed to be taken care of. I grew very accustomed to not asking for help with anything, although there were times people did offer and I did accept. Other times, when I asked for help because I thought I should, and it was promised, for various reasons it didn’t come through, but still I managed. I could cope, even though sometimes it was very tough.
Last Thursday morning was different. I felt utterly weakened and unable to make appropriate decisions for my own health and safety. I had spent the night acutely ill (I don’t need to share the details) and by morning my mental health as well as physical health was compromised. It left me feeling very vulnerable and rather frightened. I literally didn’t know what to do. I realized that I had no alternative but to ask for help. Lying on the couch, barely able to move, I called my friend. She rode to the rescue. We agreed that I should call the doctor when his office opened, and he prescribed medication. She picked it up and brought it over, along with gallons of Gatorade. I sent a brief, miserable e-mail to my lover, who called me with care and concern as soon as he read it. Within 24 hours, I was on the mend, and I am now almost recovered.
This has been a learning experience. Sometimes I can’t cope by myself. Sometimes I have to concede that I need help. It’s hard. There are many childhood connotations for me – I was not used to getting help and support, so it still feels wrong to ask for or expect it. I’m working on it. There are now people in my life who give it very willingly, and I feel very lucky and blessed to have them, yet still it feels wrong to “impose” even on those who care about me. But I have to recognize that it’s ok to have needs and to ask for help in meeting them. After all, I am always very happy and willing to help others. Somehow it is much easier that way round. As ever, living a healthy and balanced life is a work in progress, and that is something else I have to accept. I guess we never stop learning. Which is good. Growth is good. And so is asking for and accepting help.
posted by Vicky | 8:23 PM
3 Comments:
This is so significant for me to read now because I'm learning how to accept help now. Honestly, I hate it. I've been working on overcoming being told that I would never be able to take care of myself most of my life, so getting or needing help feels like an affirmation of one of my worst fears. Yet, despite how I fight it, help and love keeps coming at me. It's uncomfortably humbling, but it's still profound growth. I hope this makes some semblance of sense because I really don't understand it yet. I just know it's significant.
And, like me, when there's no one nearby to help... sigh.
I'm glad you're on the mend, and glad that you had someone to whom you could reach out.
I can so relate to this! I'm one of those type of people too that hates to ask other's for help. I've always said my greatest strength is my independence and my biggest weakness is my independence.
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