At the beginning of the year I picked one word to focus on instead of a resolution.
I decided to ask for help. Even though I hate it and even though asking for it makes me feel weak and vulnerable I decided on help anyway.
Because I was retreating within myself. Slowly but surely I was withdrawing from life and friendships.
Nothing felt safe anymore and I lacked the ability to pull myself out of the hole I was in.
I was ashamed and afraid that asking for help would only give others a platform to reassure me that I in fact meant nothing to them at all.
But I started. I asked friends for help finding a therapist and then I made an appointment and actually went TO the appointment. At first I fought against the validation she gave me when she named the sharp words still sticking like shards out of my heart, but then I realized it was true.
I joined a connecting group at church for the first time in the almost 6 years I've been there. I've found new friendships developing and have observed with wonderment how many nuances there are to forming adult female relationships.
I've shared more of my story in a serious (non-sarcastic) manner with people and have heard them whisper, "me too". I've asked for help by talking about my relational fears and inabilities and asking others what can be done...and then asking them to come alongside me as we do life together.
I'm still not sure where I'm at with relationships in general. I'm still an overly suspicious person and seem to wonder always at the subtext of conversations. But I'm talking about it. I'm asking for help and I'm hearing people I wouldn't have expected step up and say they'll work through it with me.
I'm also hearing from God. I'm hearing him answer my whispers asking for help in the darkest corners of my mind and heart. I hear him steadily and consistently telling me he's still there helping me even when I can't see it through all the tears.
I hear him tell me there is a better way to have relationships (friendship or otherwise) then to give it away in exchange for scraps of affection.
For one of the first time.....I believe him.
I'm enthralled with seeing how the next half of this year of Help will go. I feel so radically different than I did at the beginning of the year, so much more hopeful and grounded then I can remember feeling...ever really.
Thanks for going first, Alece. It helped me be brave and to ask for help when it was the last thing I wanted to do, but the first thing I needed to do.
(also, if you're not reading Alece's blog then you're just missing out on a great read and a wonderful woman who is pursuing the life God is calling her to lead with all it's grit and glory)
Showing posts with label One Word. Show all posts
Showing posts with label One Word. Show all posts
6.22.2011
4.21.2011
Justify, my love
Sometimes I have these memories.
I'm not entirely certain if they're actually true.
I could probably ask people that I seemingly share the memories with but I've done that before, and they don't remember it that way. For a girl that thinks she's always wrong that means I am remembering things wrong.
Sometimes the memories I have aren't of conversations but of feelings.
Feelings that things were off, that they just weren't right.
People have asked me lately what the cause of my distress is, they ask me what the traumatic situation was that I'm recovering from.
I feel like I have to justify it.
Like my hurt and my inability to move past things without professional help isn't valid because it's not (insert non-melodramatic suburban white girl problem here)
I'm trying not to justify it. I'm trying to simply own my share in the trauma and figure out how to healthily move past the experiences once and for all so I can get back to a fully functioning life.
I know that's not what people are trying to do, but they manage to do it anyway.
So I'm going to stop justifying and just respond to people when they say things like that and ask them to help, instead of retreating within my shame and believing I'm all wrong.
I'm not entirely certain if they're actually true.
I could probably ask people that I seemingly share the memories with but I've done that before, and they don't remember it that way. For a girl that thinks she's always wrong that means I am remembering things wrong.
Sometimes the memories I have aren't of conversations but of feelings.
Feelings that things were off, that they just weren't right.
People have asked me lately what the cause of my distress is, they ask me what the traumatic situation was that I'm recovering from.
I feel like I have to justify it.
Like my hurt and my inability to move past things without professional help isn't valid because it's not (insert non-melodramatic suburban white girl problem here)
I'm trying not to justify it. I'm trying to simply own my share in the trauma and figure out how to healthily move past the experiences once and for all so I can get back to a fully functioning life.
I know that's not what people are trying to do, but they manage to do it anyway.
So I'm going to stop justifying and just respond to people when they say things like that and ask them to help, instead of retreating within my shame and believing I'm all wrong.
2.18.2011
Validation
I don't know that I'm going to write about therapy a lot but I wanted to write this.
I have no idea how to wear validation.
I have struggled for a long time trying to minimize things that have shattered me. Because they were just these silly things that happened; it never occurred to me that if they were really silly I would have moved on years ago.
I have silenced my voice and confined my grief to behind closed doors. Because it never occurred to me that anyone would stick around or care to hear anything. I was after all just a petulant bad girl. Who could possibly care?
I have medicated myself with boys, food, alcohol and sarcasm and I have numbed myself so deeply I couldn't figure out how to ever feel anything again. Because it's not safe. It's scary and people go away and are never who they say they are anyway.
I have placed blame on shoulders that, while they hurt me deeply, the offense was not proportionate to the rage I applied to them. Because I have practiced saying it's no big deal for decades, and how could I break the news to those I tried to convince it was ok that it was not, in fact, ok at all?
Then I broke. It was too much. Being back there in that town. Seeing those places again and feeling let down and unimportant was too much. Even now, it's just too much.
I was already cracked and being tenuously held together by an intricate facade of sarcasm and practiced deflection and the straw, that last straw, it was just too much.
I couldn't explain what happened. Even I could see the punishment wasn't fitting the crime. But I just kept breaking. Over and over in small cuts with every breath I was being shredded and I could no longer stand. I felt like I had to justify it, that when you looked at it up close it seems like just a silly little white girl drama being played out. But it was more and I felt so invalid in my panic and pain.
But at my first meeting with my therapist I felt validated. In the green room with a woman I'd never met and was frankly a little terrified of, I felt safe. She felt soft to me. She gave words to the tatters I presented to her in my tear soaked hands and she validated my feelings in a way I never thought of before. She gave name to the behaviors of grown ups that she said should have been better and she didn't dismiss the depth of the scars they had left.
It was like a long, deep breath of hope.
I went in prepared for there to be at least 6 weeks between appointments because of scheduling issues and she said no. She said I shouldn't have to wait and she made a choice that had to be inconvenient to her because it was best for me and it was refreshing to feel her take my seriously. It was startling to feel important enough to have someone go to that much trouble.
I spent the next day walking around in a cloud. Exhausted from feeling so much, and then talking about and also just sort of dumb struck because I have no idea how to wear validation.
I have no idea how to wear validation.
I have struggled for a long time trying to minimize things that have shattered me. Because they were just these silly things that happened; it never occurred to me that if they were really silly I would have moved on years ago.
I have silenced my voice and confined my grief to behind closed doors. Because it never occurred to me that anyone would stick around or care to hear anything. I was after all just a petulant bad girl. Who could possibly care?
I have medicated myself with boys, food, alcohol and sarcasm and I have numbed myself so deeply I couldn't figure out how to ever feel anything again. Because it's not safe. It's scary and people go away and are never who they say they are anyway.
I have placed blame on shoulders that, while they hurt me deeply, the offense was not proportionate to the rage I applied to them. Because I have practiced saying it's no big deal for decades, and how could I break the news to those I tried to convince it was ok that it was not, in fact, ok at all?
Then I broke. It was too much. Being back there in that town. Seeing those places again and feeling let down and unimportant was too much. Even now, it's just too much.
I was already cracked and being tenuously held together by an intricate facade of sarcasm and practiced deflection and the straw, that last straw, it was just too much.
I couldn't explain what happened. Even I could see the punishment wasn't fitting the crime. But I just kept breaking. Over and over in small cuts with every breath I was being shredded and I could no longer stand. I felt like I had to justify it, that when you looked at it up close it seems like just a silly little white girl drama being played out. But it was more and I felt so invalid in my panic and pain.
But at my first meeting with my therapist I felt validated. In the green room with a woman I'd never met and was frankly a little terrified of, I felt safe. She felt soft to me. She gave words to the tatters I presented to her in my tear soaked hands and she validated my feelings in a way I never thought of before. She gave name to the behaviors of grown ups that she said should have been better and she didn't dismiss the depth of the scars they had left.
It was like a long, deep breath of hope.
I went in prepared for there to be at least 6 weeks between appointments because of scheduling issues and she said no. She said I shouldn't have to wait and she made a choice that had to be inconvenient to her because it was best for me and it was refreshing to feel her take my seriously. It was startling to feel important enough to have someone go to that much trouble.
I spent the next day walking around in a cloud. Exhausted from feeling so much, and then talking about and also just sort of dumb struck because I have no idea how to wear validation.
2.16.2011
My Beloved
It was one of those days. When every breath seemed forced, when every limb felt heavy. The very day itself seemed to be pressing down on me.
I didn't feel brave.
I didn't feel safe.
Everything just felt hard.
It was a busy day, lots of things on my to do list, not a lot checked off at the end of the day. My mind was traipsing through what ifs and maybe for some things coming up that I'm feeling anxious about and it was just a lot.
I left work on time, ran to pick up something from my seester and then headed back to the dog sitting house.
I was overcome by the desire to go to Target. So I went to Target. I wandered for almost 30 or 45 minutes just picking things up, putting them in the cart, putting them back.
I looked up once and was startled to see I was still in Target. That's when I just left the cart where I was standing and walked out.
Then I got outside and I just stood outside the doors trying to figure out what to do next.
I mean, clearly the answer was to go to the dog sitting house. But I just felt so lost. Lost in the middle of small choices that feel so big.
I want to ask people to assure me they won't leave, that they won't forget me when I hide. But I'm too afraid to hear that the answer isn't a guaranteed "we won't"
I want to be reassured that I can trust you, that you won't one day say "just kidding" and become an opposite version of yourself then the one I'd known.
But I know it's not possible; and it makes it very chaotic in my head and heart.
I want to ask you for help, but can't think of what specifically I need you to help me with.
I ache to be known, but fear letting you in because I won't measure up (and neither will you)
Then I came home. I read her beloved list and I remember. I come splashing up through the surface of the loss I'm drowning in and I gasp, drawing in any air I can.
I remember that He knows me.
He already knows I don't measure up and He pursues my broken and dirty heart anyway.
I remember that He is everything I have always hoped for and nothing I ever expected Him to be.
He holds me gently.
He reassures me that He can be trusted. He won't forget me. He won't one day say "just kidding" and become an opposite version of Himself.
His character is constant.
His goodness has been proven.
He fights for my tattered and suspicious heart even when I try to hide it from Him.
He is my beloved; and I am His.
Inspired by her Beloved List.
I didn't feel brave.
I didn't feel safe.
Everything just felt hard.
It was a busy day, lots of things on my to do list, not a lot checked off at the end of the day. My mind was traipsing through what ifs and maybe for some things coming up that I'm feeling anxious about and it was just a lot.
I left work on time, ran to pick up something from my seester and then headed back to the dog sitting house.
I was overcome by the desire to go to Target. So I went to Target. I wandered for almost 30 or 45 minutes just picking things up, putting them in the cart, putting them back.
I looked up once and was startled to see I was still in Target. That's when I just left the cart where I was standing and walked out.
Then I got outside and I just stood outside the doors trying to figure out what to do next.
I mean, clearly the answer was to go to the dog sitting house. But I just felt so lost. Lost in the middle of small choices that feel so big.
I want to ask people to assure me they won't leave, that they won't forget me when I hide. But I'm too afraid to hear that the answer isn't a guaranteed "we won't"
I want to be reassured that I can trust you, that you won't one day say "just kidding" and become an opposite version of yourself then the one I'd known.
But I know it's not possible; and it makes it very chaotic in my head and heart.
I want to ask you for help, but can't think of what specifically I need you to help me with.
I ache to be known, but fear letting you in because I won't measure up (and neither will you)
Then I came home. I read her beloved list and I remember. I come splashing up through the surface of the loss I'm drowning in and I gasp, drawing in any air I can.
I remember that He knows me.
He already knows I don't measure up and He pursues my broken and dirty heart anyway.
I remember that He is everything I have always hoped for and nothing I ever expected Him to be.
He holds me gently.
He reassures me that He can be trusted. He won't forget me. He won't one day say "just kidding" and become an opposite version of Himself.
His character is constant.
His goodness has been proven.
He fights for my tattered and suspicious heart even when I try to hide it from Him.
He is my beloved; and I am His.
Inspired by her Beloved List.
Love of my life
Look deep in my eyes
There you will find what you need
Give me your life
Lust and the lies
The past you're afraid I might see
You've been running away from me
You're my beloved
Lover I'm yours
Death shall not part us
It's you I died for
For better or worse
Forever we'll be
Our Love it unites us
It binds you to me
It's a mystery
- 'Beloved ' Tenth Avenue North
2.08.2011
Connecting
Lately I've felt totally incapable of human interaction. But I also recognize the giant red flag that is my constant withdrawing from human contact and any form of community.
So color me.....caught..... when our small group winter term launches and I begin looking for the safe bet of a learning group.
I feel comfortable and safe in a learning group. There's a defined topic of conversation and I can "brace" myself for the community that happens there.
It all sounds so sexy doesn't it?
Because sometimes I need to prepare for community. To make sure that all my ragged edges and ugly is contained and neatly tucked away in the darkest part of my heart. Which...yes, I realize is the opposite of what the actual point of community is but whatevs.
As I'm flipping through the group choices I feel that annoying stirring. Most of you know which one I'm talking about.
It whispered...NO learning groups. You need to CONNECT.
Ughalicious
There's this standing apart I feel when I go to learning groups. I can cover myself in learning and studying that while on the surface it seems like I connect with others I don't really. I get to be the sometimes serious but mostly joking/ice breaking person. No one pushes this on me, it's my comfort zone.
But connecting groups. UGH. There is an open end of conversation, there is no one focus for the group other than connecting and having fun.
I mean, I'm sure they're awesome. I hear they're awesome. But I get so stressed about it because how do I plan witty things to say?! How do I know how to behave so I won't be the weird awkward girl?! What if I have to ask where the BATHROOM is?!
Unfortunately, I'm asking for help this year. The thing with asking for help is that I have to DO something. I have to make an effort instead of sitting at home and pouting about :insertanynumberofitemshere:.
So I'm doing something.
I'm signing up for a connecting group.
I'm going to go every time.
I'm going to reach out and connect even though the most casual new acquaintances seem terrifying to me right now.
Because if I evade people long enough I'll have no one left to ask for help.
So color me.....caught..... when our small group winter term launches and I begin looking for the safe bet of a learning group.
I feel comfortable and safe in a learning group. There's a defined topic of conversation and I can "brace" myself for the community that happens there.
It all sounds so sexy doesn't it?
Because sometimes I need to prepare for community. To make sure that all my ragged edges and ugly is contained and neatly tucked away in the darkest part of my heart. Which...yes, I realize is the opposite of what the actual point of community is but whatevs.
As I'm flipping through the group choices I feel that annoying stirring. Most of you know which one I'm talking about.
It whispered...NO learning groups. You need to CONNECT.
Ughalicious
There's this standing apart I feel when I go to learning groups. I can cover myself in learning and studying that while on the surface it seems like I connect with others I don't really. I get to be the sometimes serious but mostly joking/ice breaking person. No one pushes this on me, it's my comfort zone.
But connecting groups. UGH. There is an open end of conversation, there is no one focus for the group other than connecting and having fun.
I mean, I'm sure they're awesome. I hear they're awesome. But I get so stressed about it because how do I plan witty things to say?! How do I know how to behave so I won't be the weird awkward girl?! What if I have to ask where the BATHROOM is?!
Unfortunately, I'm asking for help this year. The thing with asking for help is that I have to DO something. I have to make an effort instead of sitting at home and pouting about :insertanynumberofitemshere:.
So I'm doing something.
I'm signing up for a connecting group.
I'm going to go every time.
I'm going to reach out and connect even though the most casual new acquaintances seem terrifying to me right now.
Because if I evade people long enough I'll have no one left to ask for help.
2.03.2011
Everything's OK
There have been several things happening both around my office and around my sphere of friends. Little things, adding up. But everyone is still ok. At least that's what they say when you ask them how they are.
When people ask me how I am I usually just say I'm ok. Because I'm ok. I'm fine. I'm not great. But I'm out of bed and out in the world doing what needs to be done just like everyone else.
But I said to a friend at lunch the other day, how do you respond when the answer feels like "I'm completely falling apart". Because while I'm ok, and I'm fine and I'm out in the world doing what needs to be done I also feel like I'm completely falling apart. I feel like little birds of prey disguised as friendships disintegrating, professional chaos and what is (if I'm being completely and frighteningly honest) an escalating and choking case of pretty severe depression, are picking away at my coping with life skills.
Sometimes it feels like if I say that, I need to justify it. It feels that way because I am a pleaser but also because I've had to in the past. People who I've finally opened up to have asked me why I can't just get over it because I have a nice life so what could possibly be the problem.
How can I possibly explain that it's not one thing. It would almost be better if it was something big. I told my friend I wish I could get a boyfriend than have a terrible break up because I feel like people could understand feeling like this about that. But it's all the little things of life. Paying bills, navigating complicated professional relationships, tiptoeing through friendships that feel unfamiliar and where I mostly feel unwanted trying to belong somewhere, even breathing in and out, getting out of bed in the morning....it's all just feeling like to much lately.
I don't know if it's seasonal, actually I know that it's not. I just want you to not worry about me. This has been going on severely since that September weekend and was building before that since the previous spring. I've just been able to manage it (however poorly) since then.
But I can't manage it anymore.
So I'm getting help, I've made the appointment, and each morning I force myself out of bed and into a world that feels like monsters in a haunted house to me right now.
Forgive me that I don't know how to say that to you in person. Because how would I explain it. It's not just that thing that happened, or this thing that happened. There hasn't been any great travesty that has happened.
It's both simply and not so simply the damage of this broken girl finally making it's way to the surface and God refusing to let me bury it anymore.
When people ask me how I am I usually just say I'm ok. Because I'm ok. I'm fine. I'm not great. But I'm out of bed and out in the world doing what needs to be done just like everyone else.
But I said to a friend at lunch the other day, how do you respond when the answer feels like "I'm completely falling apart". Because while I'm ok, and I'm fine and I'm out in the world doing what needs to be done I also feel like I'm completely falling apart. I feel like little birds of prey disguised as friendships disintegrating, professional chaos and what is (if I'm being completely and frighteningly honest) an escalating and choking case of pretty severe depression, are picking away at my coping with life skills.
Sometimes it feels like if I say that, I need to justify it. It feels that way because I am a pleaser but also because I've had to in the past. People who I've finally opened up to have asked me why I can't just get over it because I have a nice life so what could possibly be the problem.
How can I possibly explain that it's not one thing. It would almost be better if it was something big. I told my friend I wish I could get a boyfriend than have a terrible break up because I feel like people could understand feeling like this about that. But it's all the little things of life. Paying bills, navigating complicated professional relationships, tiptoeing through friendships that feel unfamiliar and where I mostly feel unwanted trying to belong somewhere, even breathing in and out, getting out of bed in the morning....it's all just feeling like to much lately.
I don't know if it's seasonal, actually I know that it's not. I just want you to not worry about me. This has been going on severely since that September weekend and was building before that since the previous spring. I've just been able to manage it (however poorly) since then.
But I can't manage it anymore.
So I'm getting help, I've made the appointment, and each morning I force myself out of bed and into a world that feels like monsters in a haunted house to me right now.
Forgive me that I don't know how to say that to you in person. Because how would I explain it. It's not just that thing that happened, or this thing that happened. There hasn't been any great travesty that has happened.
It's both simply and not so simply the damage of this broken girl finally making it's way to the surface and God refusing to let me bury it anymore.
1.19.2011
Trusting
When I was contemplating my One Word for 2011 I came up with two words. Help, which is the word I settled on, and Trust.
Just thinking about having to work on trusting more leaves me breathless. Because I don't do it.
I want to believe you when you say you love me.
I want to believe you when you say you'll be around.
But experience tells me over and over again that it's not true and I would be a fool to believe you.
I want to believe that you are who you say that you are, who you mostly show me that you are. But I don't.
Because you are an imperfect and flawed person (like me) and when I see your cracks it makes me all jumpy and anxious and leaves me feeling unsafe.
Which is just silly, because I'm that person too.
I'm trying not to be bitter and stiff with unforgiveness, I'm trying to trust you, anyone at all really. But the relational ground feels unstable and threatening.
I fear I have no real life tools to deal with the complete dropping out of my ability to trust people that happened.
Which is why I chose help instead of trust.
Because I need help trusting people again.
I need to stop being so afraid of every single damn thing and person around me.
It's stifling and paralyzing folding yourself in as tightly as I have.
But worse still is the trust I'm having to desperately hang on to in God.
My heart is battling every day to remind me that just because I don't feel like I can trust Him doesn't mean I can't. My memory of the last years with Him yowls as loudly as possible reminding me that His promise is true and His Grace and Mercy is true with or without my trust in them.
I'm just foolish enough to believe I can hold my breath and disappear from even Him.
Yet still there is hope. Hope that every morning His mercies are new. That every morning I have a chance to ask Him for help. That every morning I am being refined by this desert place I find myself wandering in again. Some mornings it's all I can do to say, "I'm still here, are you still here?" and wait for the whispered reply, "of course"
Just thinking about having to work on trusting more leaves me breathless. Because I don't do it.
I want to believe you when you say you love me.
I want to believe you when you say you'll be around.
But experience tells me over and over again that it's not true and I would be a fool to believe you.
I want to believe that you are who you say that you are, who you mostly show me that you are. But I don't.
Because you are an imperfect and flawed person (like me) and when I see your cracks it makes me all jumpy and anxious and leaves me feeling unsafe.
Which is just silly, because I'm that person too.
I'm trying not to be bitter and stiff with unforgiveness, I'm trying to trust you, anyone at all really. But the relational ground feels unstable and threatening.
I fear I have no real life tools to deal with the complete dropping out of my ability to trust people that happened.
Which is why I chose help instead of trust.
Because I need help trusting people again.
I need to stop being so afraid of every single damn thing and person around me.
It's stifling and paralyzing folding yourself in as tightly as I have.
But worse still is the trust I'm having to desperately hang on to in God.
My heart is battling every day to remind me that just because I don't feel like I can trust Him doesn't mean I can't. My memory of the last years with Him yowls as loudly as possible reminding me that His promise is true and His Grace and Mercy is true with or without my trust in them.
I'm just foolish enough to believe I can hold my breath and disappear from even Him.
Yet still there is hope. Hope that every morning His mercies are new. That every morning I have a chance to ask Him for help. That every morning I am being refined by this desert place I find myself wandering in again. Some mornings it's all I can do to say, "I'm still here, are you still here?" and wait for the whispered reply, "of course"
1.13.2011
Nothing to You
I know that there are hundreds of promises in the bible.
I know that God is a big God, he is a God of miracles, one that is slow to anger and whose grace is abounding. I know that God relentlessly pursues each of us personally.
And still.....
I wonder.
I wonder when the "but" will come. I wonder when the other shoe will drop. I wonder when He'll pull back, withdrawal, and tell me He was just kidding...He didn't really care.
The truth is, I HATE that I think that. I HATE that I wonder if His grace and love is conditional because of the conditional grace and love I've grown accustomed to from "friends" and people that were supposed to love me and protect me.
I hate that I expect His apathy after all these years of seeing His mercy and compassion.
I hate the sin in me that believes the hissing and slithering lies, the sin that tells me even God is ashamed of me for needing Him so desperately to help.
I know that God is a big God, he is a God of miracles, one that is slow to anger and whose grace is abounding. I know that God relentlessly pursues each of us personally.
And still.....
I wonder.
I wonder when the "but" will come. I wonder when the other shoe will drop. I wonder when He'll pull back, withdrawal, and tell me He was just kidding...He didn't really care.
The truth is, I HATE that I think that. I HATE that I wonder if His grace and love is conditional because of the conditional grace and love I've grown accustomed to from "friends" and people that were supposed to love me and protect me.
I hate that I expect His apathy after all these years of seeing His mercy and compassion.
I hate the sin in me that believes the hissing and slithering lies, the sin that tells me even God is ashamed of me for needing Him so desperately to help.
And why do you sing Hallelujah
If it means nothing to you
Why do you sing with me at all?
-Damien Rice 'Delicate'
1.07.2011
Shame
A few weeks back (or was it just last week, it seems like forever ago) Pete and I went to Verizon to get new phones. Towards the end I noticed one of my apps wasn't working right so I asked the guy and he fiddled with it for a little bit and then tossed the phone back at me and said "all set thanks bye" and started to walk away.
I look down at my phone and then at Pete's and realized it still wasn't working right. There was a moment I considered just adapting and dealing with it because I didn't want to bother the guy (who was being PAID to help me). But I persisted and he fidgeted a little more and said "oh it's the app not the phone". I pointed to Pete's and said, "His is working fine so it's clearly not the app." After several more go rounds the phone was fixed and the issue resolved.
As Pete and I walked out the store I turned to him and said that I was so reassured just knowing he was in the store. Because had I been by myself I would have just given up and walked out.
He asked why and I replied, because I felt ashamed that I need help.
I'm realizing a lot lately how much shame I'm carrying around with me.
Especially heavy is the shame I feel whenever I realize that I need someone else, anyone else. Whether it is assistance at a store, to reschedule a meeting, needing help around the house because I don't know or can't do something on my own, moving, being sick, and especially with the crazy rolling around in my head I just haven't been able to do it. So much shame.
I would never ever encourage that in anyone else, not even my worst enemy (ok, maybe her but well...I'm working on that) but it's the ONLY reaction I have to needing help.
I spend massive amounts of time composing texts, emails, even Facebook posts and Tweets so that I don't sound like I need help. So that I don't sound needy and demanding.
Because deep down, hell, right here on the surface, I feel like if I make even the slightest demand or am the tiniest bit inconvenient to you you will completely shut me out and down and I will lose my relationship with you.
It's irrational. But it's true.
I measure my words.
I measure my actions.
I think through most conversations I have to the nth degree trying to anticipate any conflict points or ways I might irritate you and I either figure out how to avoid them or come up witty retorts to make sarcastic jokes out of them.
I don't know how, or even if, I'll be able to overcome that. It seems so daunting. This word.
Which is also how I know it's the right word for me right now.
I look down at my phone and then at Pete's and realized it still wasn't working right. There was a moment I considered just adapting and dealing with it because I didn't want to bother the guy (who was being PAID to help me). But I persisted and he fidgeted a little more and said "oh it's the app not the phone". I pointed to Pete's and said, "His is working fine so it's clearly not the app." After several more go rounds the phone was fixed and the issue resolved.
As Pete and I walked out the store I turned to him and said that I was so reassured just knowing he was in the store. Because had I been by myself I would have just given up and walked out.
He asked why and I replied, because I felt ashamed that I need help.
I'm realizing a lot lately how much shame I'm carrying around with me.
Especially heavy is the shame I feel whenever I realize that I need someone else, anyone else. Whether it is assistance at a store, to reschedule a meeting, needing help around the house because I don't know or can't do something on my own, moving, being sick, and especially with the crazy rolling around in my head I just haven't been able to do it. So much shame.
I would never ever encourage that in anyone else, not even my worst enemy (ok, maybe her but well...I'm working on that) but it's the ONLY reaction I have to needing help.
I spend massive amounts of time composing texts, emails, even Facebook posts and Tweets so that I don't sound like I need help. So that I don't sound needy and demanding.
Because deep down, hell, right here on the surface, I feel like if I make even the slightest demand or am the tiniest bit inconvenient to you you will completely shut me out and down and I will lose my relationship with you.
It's irrational. But it's true.
I measure my words.
I measure my actions.
I think through most conversations I have to the nth degree trying to anticipate any conflict points or ways I might irritate you and I either figure out how to avoid them or come up witty retorts to make sarcastic jokes out of them.
I don't know how, or even if, I'll be able to overcome that. It seems so daunting. This word.
Which is also how I know it's the right word for me right now.
1.03.2011
One Word: Help
I love me some Alece. Her blogs, while coming from a different place than mine, seem to cut right through all the rigmarole and find the place I needed to hear those words. Without even saying it she says, "Me Too", which sometimes makes all the difference. Last year she chose the word Risk as her one word. This year, she's doing One Word again and asking others to challenge themselves to pick a word too.
I decided after a tumultuous year of lots of chaotic events both physically and emotionally that this year I'm going to ask for help more.
I'm not good at it.
I hate doing it.
Even though I'm happy to help other people, even though it would never ever occur to me that they were taking advantage, lazy or inconveniencing me I feel that way when I ask for help.
I'm already quite nauseous about it.
I'm worried that I'll lose friends and relationships because I'm being to demanding.
I'm worried that no one will show up.
I'm worried about what I will be like after asking for help from doctors with various issues I'm determined to address this year.
Because one of the first ways I'm asking for help is to find a pay-a-friend to help me face some scars and get them healed and off of my heart for the last and final time.
There are some other big things I'm thinking about doing this year, and I'll need help doing them all I think. So I'm working on asking for help more and trusting people when they say they really want to help me.
(I briefly contemplated making my One Word trust, but...I just can't do that without help so help it is)
So if I ask you for help this year, please just know it was probably pretty hard for me to ask you so be kind.
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