How To Ask For Help Even Though It Horrifies You

I Am Not an Island

I’m looking at the pile ‘o’ stuff in my 5x10 storage unit, 23 miles down the road from my new place. It may as well be 100 miles. I throw what boxes I can get into my car, but it does little to reduce the bulk.

That’s my whole life in there. And once again, it is packed up in boxes and any sense of stability has fled the building. And how the hell am I going to wrangle the big stuff like the futon which requires both a strong back and an engineering degree to reassemble?

I remind myself that little ole bad ass me hauled a sofa into my house single-handedly, but the thought brought little comfort.

After I finished breast cancer treatment in August, I sold my lovely doublewide leaving me houseless for several months. (I spent the time being with my sweetie in MI and visiting other friends and family.)

The mobile home park is closing soon, and it was in my best interests to sell then. Otherwise, I would never have had put that kind of pressure on myself. (Yeah, recuperating from chemo and packing boxes is great fun!)

I’ve moved about a gazillion times in my 58 years, so packing up my life after it just seemed to settle down following my divorce was enough to bring on twitches and the urge to stock up on cases of Trader Joe’s Merlot. (I had not yet quit my wine habit.)

I imagine renting a Uhaul even though I am watching every nickel right now. Ka-ching!

I consider my options. And have a good cry once again. I seem to do a lot of that these days.

A most offensive thought popped into my head.

Ask for help.

WTF?

That nudge again.

Ask for help.

The Good Angel/Bad Angel on each shoulder start dialoguing.

I don’t know anyone here. Whom do I ask?

My ego felt like I just threw battery acid all over it-sort of like the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz going up in smoke.

I do NOT like asking for help. Over the years, I have been the one to mobilize forces in helping others. It brings me great joy.

This past year, I have struggled mightily with feeling needy. But as a dear friend pointed out, the needs have been real. There is a difference between having needs vs. being needy.

If I take a deep breath and look at all I’ve experienced these past two years-oh yeah, baby, the needs are significant. Made more challenging from adjusting to life after 32 years of marriage. I never planned on being single again.

One thing I learned from this past year, there really are helpers out there. Just like Mister Rogers taught us. A GofundMe account paid for out-of-pocket medical costs and living expenses while I was going through treatment.

But yet here I am again. More needs. Trying to dig deep to pull this off on my own and realizing I don’t have the energy to figure out one more thing.

When my marriage started crumbling, my was-band held anger toward me when I would ask for his help with stuff. (Um, I thought we were in a partnership.) This was part of the dynamic that began unfolding. And of course, hindset is 20/20-his heart was elsewhere. By necessity, I needed to be villainized as having too many demands for help. So, my “I’ll figure it out” has been part angry rant and part I’ll show you. Watch me fly, sucka!

Yeah, that didn’t last.

Ask for help. The antithesis of I’ll figure it out. (BTW-I have impressed myself with what I have figured out!)

It worked last week when I put out the need to pick up a prescription; I was too sick to drive. My sweet neighbors showed up on my doorstep to help.

This is a much bigger ask, though. I can feel my heart beat pick up. This feels very vulnerable and scary. I don’t want to ask for help.

I received a message from the chaplain here in the park. He read my appeal for the prescription delivery and asked if I had any other needs he could help with.

Pound, pound, pound, goes my heart. I have learned to read my body signals as an indicator of my stress level. It’s high. Calm down, Theresa.

I pace around my tiny house a bit, contemplating. And then I pinched my nose and replied.

It’s a big ask, I know, I said. I explained my situation. And hit send.

The voices in my head, mostly accusatory (get off your ass and deal with it yourself!) with a dash of self-pity thrown in (you poor little thing, you’re sooooooo alone!).

My god, if I heard someone telling my kids the negative smack, I’d throat punch ‘em.

I feel like I’m doing an emotional pee-pee dance as I’m watching the little dots on the messaging, knowing he is typing a reply.

GAAAAAAAAH.

Yes, we can help, came the reply.

Over the course of the day, he rounded up a handful of vans and pickup trucks. “There’s some young guys too,” he said. I’m looking at you, futon…

You’ll never guess what I did next.

I cried. I know, shocking. It was also frustrating because this stoopid e-coli infection has caused a lot of gut pain and crying makes it worse. Good lord. Can’t a girl even have a good cry?

I reached out to another friend who had offered help a month back in other areas. “No thank you,” I said. I’ll figure it out.

My figuring wasn’t working. Why not another slice of humble pie? I texted.

The response came immediately. “Of course, I can help.”

Now I’ve got full on waterworks while I’m clutching my aching sides.

You know, it’s one thing to quote inspirational sayings and verse about how it is more blessed to give than to receive, but integrating that into life is another matter. Especially in a culture that beats its chest and howls about how strong and independent they are.

And it also totally sucks to realize that you need to take your own advice. Like asking for help when you need it. I think we women have a harder time with this because we are by nature the caretakers.

I believe part of my effectiveness as a life coach/spiritual director is because I get the struggles. I can’t model what I haven’t learned myself.

And even though advice giving isn’t coaching-I offer it when it’s requested.

This is where the universe laughs, me thinks. Giving advice that I have not been willing to accept myself is an invitation for the universe to provide you an opportunity to experience the very thing you’re advising on.

This is significant because part of my vision for this year is to launch the Fresh Start Sisterhood community to network and connect with other women whose lives have been shattered by unwelcome changes like divorce or health issues.

Healing from divorce takes time. Especially the gray divorces. As well as any other devastating circumstances.

There’s a ton of women out there trying to figure it out. To tough it out. Make do. On their own. (When I think about single moms, trying to survive my knees go weak.)

Their efforts are reflected in their physical health-chronic pain or some other debilitating but nonfatal syndrome.

I realize that learning to ask for help will be one of my bedrock teachings as I work with woman and build the community. (It will be over at Substack.) I had planned on launching it already but uh, yeah, a little illness got in the way.

But as the fates would have it, I get the experience of practicing what I preach.

It also gives me a glimpse into the amazing beauty of my fellow humans. We’ve lost our connection to one another and have bought into the lie that we’re on our own. You must rescue yourself, too bad both your legs are broken.

I am finding people ARE willing to help. The cost for asking for help and connection is vulnerability. (If you’ve not read or heard any of Brene Brown’s teachings on this, please check it out!)

If you haven’t watched the news lately, we are speeding toward an economic crisis and devastation. Most Americans have no retirement, no emergency savings and housing insecurity grows as rapacious corporations snatch up properties to rent to the highest bidder.

I believe women like me are especially vulnerable. Having been a stay-at-home mom, I have no retirement and the amount I will get from my was-band’s social security will be meager.

I’m not afraid of hard work and have many tools at my disposal, but the reality is still frightening. Especially when a serious health issue keeps you from earning an income. And we ain’t getting any younger either.

We must learn to ask for help. We must pool our ideas and find creative win/win solutions.

The answers for what we need aren’t coming from the government or from a self-improvement, pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps program. (Available for only $997 and includes access to our Bootstrap Facebook group! I’m using the sarcastic font there in case you didn’t notice.)

It’s humbling. It’s hard. But as my teacher Richard Rohr reminds me, it is in suffering and in loss that we find the greatest riches. And we learn to recognize our need for connection with one another. To love and help one another.

And holy cow… I’ve waxed on and on. Thank you for reading.

What is something that you could use help with but you’re afraid to ask?

Thanks so much for reading. You can find me around the internet at www.theresawinn.com, on Facebook, LinkedIn and Instagram. If you’d like to support my writing in a small way, feel free to contribute to my wishlist.