What is it about me that makes asking for help so challenging? It seems that for other people it takes place in a few simple words strung together into a sentence or two.
“Can you call me later?”
“Can I vent to you for a minute?”
“Can you walk the dog when you get home?”
Okay, asking for someone to do something is simple for me too. But reaching out to admit my own weakness, my own challenges?
I don’t always know what it is I am asking for or what I need. Often it involves reality and a mental game of “worst-case scenario”- Allison’s Health Edition. It is a lot of big things that I am carrying on my own and want to have somewhere to set down. Or someone else to grab hold of.
I can’t adequately give my illness to anyone else or have them suffer for me. But it doesn’t have to be something ONLY I experience. That’s a huge portion of life to keep secret.
Still, how do I begin in reaching out?
Which gifs or memes would accurately portray my deepest fears?
My fears are less about my own consequences and more the repercussions that other people must face. It’s not the “I might not be okay,” and more of the “someone else will have to face this too.”
A recurring narrative in my head is “other people have their own issues.” And they do. I would never want to ignore them. I want to be present for those. I would also like to ask the same for myself.
Despite whatever externally perceived strength or fortitude people may attribute to me; I don’t usually feel all that strong by myself. I know I’m not weak, but I don’t want to live out all my realities without inviting other people into them.
If I were to play the role of my own counselor, the conversation might go something like:
Counselor-self: “What evidence do you have for when you ask for help?”
Client-self: “I don’t think I have asked for help in awhile from my friends… I have never had anyone tell me they don’t want to. My friends have always been extremely helpful and often have been there or taken me to medical stuff. That means a lot to me. It’s not a minor inconvenience.”
Counselor-self: “How do you think they felt about helping you in that way?”
Client-self: “Well I think if they did hate it, they would have a hard time hiding that. Try being spiteful in a hospital waiting room. *laughs to self*I don’t think they felt differently about me. They talked to me normally, they made jokes. They were their typical selves in a different setting. It’s a setting I am comfortable with, so I guess that makes sense. It’s more about your perspective and attitude than where you are.”
Counselor-self: “It sounds like when you ask for help, your friends freely offer it when they can. And they are happy to and don’t feel differently about you.”
Client-self: “I hate it when you are right.”
And then my client-self goes off and ignores the counselor-self for 10 minutes to watch YouTube videos.
There is some merit to thinking about how to ask for help. Sometimes I need to understand my own needs and how to ask myself for help first. After that, I am more prepared to reach out to other people.
My counselor-self is right though- the evidence always contradicts my fears. I tend to make reaching out a much bigger entity than it need be. I imagine everyone does with their own fears.
Young Allison was afraid of the dark for a very long time. I could hardly turn off the light for long enough to run to my bed. I needed a parent or older sibling to come in and pull the chain on the closet light. That light was there to remind me that I was not alone, and that I was safe. It allowed me to forget my fear and fall asleep.
I don’t know what cured my fear of darkness or when it happened. The possibility of the things I had once imagined became ridiculous and illogical to me. But they never felt ridiculous and illogical when they were still fears. They felt larger than life, and the more I allowed the fear the more it grew.
Asking for help allows someone else to join us in our experience. They come into our room and turn on the closet light. Their presence allows us to face what we are most afraid of. Sometimes they help us sit in the dark and face our fears.
And even if we both really DO have to sit in a dark room for a while, we won’t be doing it alone. We might even come up with silly stories about our worries and laugh.
Degrees and Acronyms 