A well-known fact about me (even if you have only talked to me for five minutes) is that I don’t do well with asking for help. Some may call it pride; some call it stubbornness; I’d just like to think that it is the independence that was instilled in me. Even when I became a mother to my oldest, I still asked for very little help from family and friends. It was always offered, but I nor my husband never took people up on their offer.
It wasn’t until 2 years ago that the “self-sufficient” wall I had spent 30 years building began to start coming down. Little by little, I wouldn’t reply “no” every time someone offered to do something or bring something. Little by little, I would begin reaching out and actually asking for help. In the beginning of all of this reconstruction, I didn’t like it, and I definitely didn’t like myself for it. “What kind of person am I that I can’t handle doing everything when just a month earlier I did all of this and more? What kind of mother am I if I need to take time away from my child?” I truly didn’t like what I was becoming. Everyone told me that seeking help was good for me and I would be better for it. I didn’t see that, I and didn’t want to.
It has not been until recently (since our youngest has been around) that I am beginning to see everyone’s point, and I’m not where I was about the situation so much anymore. You see, I have always been the caretaker, of everyone. Immediately after our loss, I couldn’t do it. I could barely be my own caretaker. My mom continually told me “You can’t be everything for everyone if you’re not well; take care of you first.” I am getting better at seeking help before it gets to be too much, but my walls are constantly under construction.
Asking for help includes asking the Lord. Honestly, although I am confident that one day I will see Wyatt again, that wasn’t good enough in the beginning, and the Lord was the last person I was asking for help. Quite frankly, the first people you ask for help are not those you are angry with. I was angry. I was hurt. I felt betrayed. I wasn’t going to Him with my needs. He knew my desire, my son. I have since learned to let the perpetual anger go and have asked Him for help. One of those walls under construction is my faith wall. If you were able to see it some days, you’d never know the pain I feel and other days, it is fully bricked with cement and all. Nothing is getting in; nothing is getting out.
So if you’re giving someone advice about letting people help them in their time of need, don’t be offended or think less of them if they don’t jump to your suggestion. Letting other things go is easier said than done, especially after you’ve already had to let someone go that you didn’t want to.