Why is it so hard to ask for help?
I know I’m not the only one that has this problem.
I overdid last week on Wednesday and Thursday, working, doing kids and trying to recupe from a procedure that I had on August 10th. On Wednesday night, I lost it and broke down into tears in front of the kids. Merlot chose that day to throw an absolute hissy fit about homework and it pushed me over the edge.
|(not really me)|
Then I did the same on Thursday night. My mom had to go out of town for a few days and when she called I was doing the, “I’m fine, no need to come back, I can do it”.In addition, Stanley texted and asked if I was managing. Again, my response was, “I’m okay”. He did NOT offer to come help and so I didn’t ask.
I was not okay!
Finally on Thursday night, my mom called and I was all a mess. She said she would come back Friday morning and take over. Stanley texted again on Saturday and asked how it was going and I told him awful and that mom had to come home. He asked if he could help me on Sunday night.
Ummmm. DUH. YES.
Especially since it is your night, fuckhead.
Basically since then I have been trying to figure out why I have such a hard time asking for help. I have always had this issue. My mom said my first sentence was:
“I do it myself.”
I can tell you that when my patients go through something hard I am all into encouraging them to accept the help that people offer. I know that friends and family members do genuinely want to help, people have a need to feel useful, so I have been trying to accept help from friends that offer with carpooling, etc since I’ve been down.
I would rather have a rectal probe than ask Stanley though.
|This pic could have been MUCH worse|
FBE (AL) is all sweet and wants to help but he is 1000 miles away and has responsibilities there. So then I got into a funk about how the hell I got myself into a long-distance relationship when I am 48 years old and definitely know better. I started thinking that what I really need is a local boyfriend to help me get off the floor after I throw a hissy fit. Then a dear friend snapped me back into the reality of how awesome Al is and that if I run him off then I am a big, dumb, no-count bitch who makes really bad decisions.
He has sent me flowers 2 times in the last 10 days and is coming for Labor Day.
People are under the impression that I say everything I think. Oh hell no. I am going to have to get better about telling Stanley when I need him to step up though. That is my new mission. Because as I have learned about 100 million times, Stanley does not pick up context clues or hints. Here is to hoping that goes into my thick skull soonish.