How to ask for help

I'm learning to ask for help when I need it, but I learned something that goes much deeper than that. This month I was reminded that when people offer to help, you should give them something to do. 

from a student

The hardest part of being single and feeling helpless is the loss of autonomy. My instinct is turn down offers of help if I don't think I need it, mainly because I need to prove (to myself) that I'm still capable of taking care of myself. I also don't want to wear out the kindness of others and rely on them too much before I truly cannot take care of myself. What if I use up all my lifelines before my real time of need?

Why have I become so reluctant to call for help? Why am I so fiercely independent?

Once, as a little girl, I was playing a game of jumping back and forth from our mini-trampoline to a monster truck-sized inner-tube alone in the back yard. I'd alternate sitting, standing, and kneeling, back and forth from tube to trampoline, inventing new bouncing routines with glee. Inevitably, I misjudged a bounce or forgot that the earth wasn't elastic and landed with full force on my rear on the hard packed earth of our backyard. I felt like I had broken my tailbone and every backbone connected to it. I knew, like any smart child of a health care provider, that if you sustain a back injury you should NOT MOVE for fear of causing total paralysis. And so, for the first time in my life I yelled, "Help! Help me!"

I was stunned by the speed at which my father ran from his work in the nearby shop to my aid in the back yard. I was equally astonished at my ability to yell loud enough to attract his attention over the varied saws, grinders, and trip-hammers that were commonly heard from the shop. And thirdly, I was amazed at the genuine care and concern my generally stoic father displayed upon running to rescue his daughter from imminent demise. That is, until he saw that I was not actually in danger of imminent demise, something I wasn't yet convinced of. And then he yelled at me.

I couldn't believe it. I had experienced a physical jolt like none other in my young life and called for help, taking care to keep my precious spinal cord in a stable position. Help had arrived in the form of my big, strong father literally running to my aid, and then... I was being yelled at? What had I done wrong? "Don't you ever yell for help like that unless you actually need it!" he raged, and then stomped off. Hurt by his reaction, but reassured by his assessment that I was apparently in no danger of paralysis, I wiped away my tears and went inside to recover. For years, I was bothered by this conflicting scenario. If he had been a horrible father, would he have rushed to my aid? If he was a caring father, why had he yelled at me in anger? As I grew older I chalked this up to one of those situations in which you hear parents say, "He worried me half to death. I thought he'd been murdered! I could kill him for not telling us where he'd been all night!"

The only other time I've had to cry out publicly for help was after I'd clumsily attempted the Superman method of traversing stairs at the ski lodge. I remember thinking, "I should have unbuckled these ski boots, I hope I don't fall," and, "Wow! I'm flying! I'm really flying!" The next thing I remember was lying on my side, clutching my knee with both hands. That was when I knew something was definitely wrong. I remained still, closed my eyes, and appealed as loudly as I could, "Help! Someone please help me!" To my pleasant surprise, this time when I opened my eyes, I saw several faces peering down at me in response. It worked!

Cleo reminds me to rest

Recently, a coworker (who has asked not to be named) offered to help me get groceries while I'm stuck on the floor at home. I thanked her but declined, explaining that I was managing just fine on my own, and already had resources for what I couldn't do. She explained to me plainly yet profoundly that I need to let people help me. She told me of a time in which her family had been jobless and homeless due to natural disaster and she and her husband and small children had to learn to rely on the kindness of others.

"It felt odd and at first very uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of help. However, their different acts of kindness helped us appreciate the goodness in others and it gave us greater hope. 

I don't want to impose, but remember that I and others want to do any little bit so that you recover as quickly as possible because we care.  I'm sorry if this sounds so corny. So please don't see your list as a sign of dependence, see it as a simple way of me being a friend."

best epiphany ever!

This completely changed my mind about asking for and receiving help. And it reminded me of times that I have been able to help others, and how it made me feel useful. People know they can't take away your pain, but helping even in small ways makes them feel good.

So since then, I have kept a list of things I could use help with, and I'll pick something depending upon the sincerity of the offer, and the intimacy of our relationship. If someone really wants to help, he'll feel valued. If she was just bluffing to say something nice, she probably won't ask again. :)