Accepting Help
Somewhere in my teens, I developed a core belief regarding independence. I told myself that I needed to be as independent as possible if I wanted a successful, safe and happy future. I told myself I’d spend my future alone and I needed to figure out how to make that future a happy one.
I calculated this belief based on a variety of inputs. First, I had a terrible self-image. Since I believed that I was fat and ugly, I thought that no one would want to spend their life with me. Second, the majority of relationships I grew up watching were codependent, physically violent, verbally abusive or some mix of the above. I wanted to make sure that I would never need a significant other in order to live on my own. If I did find a relationship, even if it was with the most magical unicorn on the planet, I would still need to know I could leave if things got bad.
While I’m glad to be the independent, strong woman that I am today, I’m learning that I suck at asking for or accepting help. That was glaringly apparent this week.
<Note: I am healthy and this did not turn out not to be cancer>
Last Monday, I was told that at least 2 lumps in my breast were “questionable” and that I should get a mammogram and ultrasound immediately. I did what most people would do - I freaked the f*** out and ate a pie. What I did differently was I kept it to myself. I told only those people who needed to know so that I could make my appointment this morning. I debated telling my closest friends, because I didn’t want to worry them unnecessarily. I scolded myself for being upset, because I didn’t feel like I was worthy of worrying without facts.
I did finally crack and told a close friend. She immediately offered to come with me to which I responded, “No, thank you, because if you go that makes it a thing and it’s not a thing yet and it may not be a thing.” Of course, it’s a thing! It’s a scary thing for anyone! But for me, I was telling myself I had to do this on my own, because I have to do everything on my own. This is, of course, negative thinking bullshit. Even after I found out it was not cancer and I updated another dear friend, she said she would have come with me to make sure I wasn’t alone.
I drove to the appointment and cried the whole way. I was petrified and realized I had made a huge mistake in trying to shoulder this on my own. My feelings were real and I should have acknowledged them instead of shoving them down to push on through. Rather than accepting my feelings for what they were, I wrestled them for days trying to beat them into what I thought they should be. ...totally should have paid more attention in that 9-week Mindfulness course, oops.
Thankfully, it just turns out I’m Lumpy (the lesser known but super cool 8th dwarf). I will most likely get these lumps throughout my life and will have to go through this process again and again. I don’t know if it will happen, but I know that if it does, I need to be OK with accepting help. I am constantly grateful for my fabulous framily, but when it comes to accepting their help, I need some practice.
Accept help when it’s offered. Reject feeling weak for needing help. Offer help when you can. Acknowledge help when it is given. Thank often. Thank loudly.