HELP IS A FOUR LETTER WORD

Help.

It's just not for the Beatles anymore.

Why is it so easy to help others but so very difficult to ask for help ourselves? It's almost as if the very word "help" gets stuck in our throats and it's there.......it's there.........but were still not quite able to say the words. It's not just the words either. Doing for others is such a wonderful blessing. It lifts our spirits and gives meaning to our existence. 

Why then is it so difficult to accept?

Maybe it's the admission that we are not quite perfect. No one likes to admit they they don't have their lives quite in their control. Maybe the admission of needing help makes us feel weak and vulnerable. Maybe it's not the admission but the act of receiving. 

Does receiving make us feel not only weak but obligated? Or is it the imposition?

No one likes to impose on other peoples lives. Well, I shouldn't say no one. I know people that have no problem asking for anything. They can't do for themselves so they depend on other people's good will to survive. It's the ever-present drama that keeps them going. It's a drug in their veins and without it they feel meaningless. If life isn't high intensity or high drama then they feel the need to create it.

I just wouldn't want to be lumped into that category.

I guess we all sell ourselves short at times. The people I know, the friends and family, would probably drop everything to help me. They wouldn't find it an imposition, they would do it out of love.  Now I'm rambling but maybe it's the outpouring of unconditional love that's hard to accept. It's beautiful, amazing and very humbling. 

In real estate I used to break everything down to the ridiculous. Maybe that's what I'm doing here. If I break it down far enough I might be able to find the reason it's so difficult to accept help. 

So let's keep breaking it down.

Humbling. 

Accepting help is humbling so if that's the case then it's pride that keeps us from asking. We portray ourselves in a certain way. We all have this idea of our "image." Suddenly we find that image crumbling and there is a sense of shame that follows. Going to the great lengths that we do to maintain our own personal pride is counter productive to our health. 

Imposing. 

We don't want to inconvenience others so if that's the case we don't feel worthy to accept help from others.

So is that it? 

We have too much pride and don't feel worthy of the help?

There's an old saying. If you see a turtle on top of the fence post, you know he had some help. I think the idea is to look at help in a different manner. If help makes you feel weak then don't look at it like that.

We all need support to get where we are going in this life. Support is the pillow that we sink into at the end of the day. It gives us rest and it gives us comfort. Sometimes all the support in the world can't help us with the pain or discomfort we feel but what it can do is helps us through those times. The path that we walk on is filled with pain but the support that we receive from others can help buffer those times. We may feel out of control or weak. We may feel awkward. We may feel like an inconvenience. We may feel many things that don't fit well and feel uncomfortable.

But.

There is still one simple truth of this universe.

We can't get by without each other.

Think about it. We need others for the very physical aspects of our daily lives; our basic necessities like heat for our homes, the grocery store, gasoline.....everything we consume or need depends on other people. We need others for our emotional nurturing as well. When we came into this world we had love and comfort. We put such a high value on our own independence that we virtually trained ourselves to believe that support isn't necessary. 

When it comes right down to it I think the biggest reason we don't ask for help is because down deep we fear rejection. It comes down to rejection and vulnerability. What if we go through all of this and swallow our pride, ask for help and then we're told no.

Is it the "no" that is at the root of it all?

Maybe that's it.

We're afraid of no.

Great. 

Now I have really done it.

I've made myself afraid to raise my hand.

Hayzell at Possibilism.org is hosting the blog carnival and thanks to her for inviting me!

GOT TO BE REAL

"God has given you one face."

"And you give yourself another."

William Shakespeare

I hear a lot about "being real," about being "your authentic self."  Is it really possible? Maybe it is to a certain point but I'm not sure anyone can be truly real. In my own mind I just don't think its really possible.

I don't think it's realistic to think that anyone can get through this life without their psychological skin being burned at some point. For some, it's a scarring that means major therapy and for others it's the place we start the construction of walls. I don't think I've met anyone who doesn't have some point at which public knowledge ends and privacy begins. 

So what is meant by "being real?" How much of ourselves do we have to show the real world before we're considered fake? If we don't choose to show it all are we living a lie?

I went to my reunion a few weeks ago and after I left I felt like I was living that proverbial lie. I was smiling like everything in my life was fine but nothing could be farther from the truth. Every bone in my body hurt. The car accident and this subsequent illness has wreaked havoc in every way possible; physically, emotionally, spiritually, in my career and financially. Did I want to appear weak and out of control to my former classmates? Not only no, but hell no! So, am I not being real? Do we need to expose our vulnerabilities to be real? Is this I'm okay, you're okay stuff going too far?

Where does being real begin? 

What does it mean?

I know I have walls up. Only my closest friends get past most of them but there are still those that are ingrained so deeply no one will ever pass them.  I do know that one of the deepest has to do with abandonment. I'm equally as sure my adoption has a great deal to do with it. There are pieces to the puzzle of me that only I can fit to make the puzzle whole. I'm not sure I even want to put the puzzle together. What would be the benefit at this point?

So the face we put to the world is the self that we want others to see at face value, so to speak. The rest has to be earned. Chronic pain is the proverbial icing on the cake. Yes, it makes you introspective but it also brings the false face to the forefront. Invisible illness is just that. It is a false face that we present to the world so they don't see the physical pain that lies underneath the surface. Physical pain, emotional pain: pain is pain, no matter how you cut it. 

So what is "knowing our authentic self?" I think that most of us know who we are. We know what brings us pleasure and what brings pain. We might not know what we want to do with that knowledge but that has no bearing on the knowledge. We present to the world that which insulates our psyche. It's not a false self, it's a safe self. We've been conditioned to believe that if we don't bear all we're not being "real" and I don't think that is the case at all. 


I just don't think we have to tell all. 


I think there is such a thing as too much information.

I WISH I MAY, I WISH I MIGHT, HAVE THE WISH I WISH TONIGHT

It hurts when I am in pain.

It hurts even more when I witness the pain of my friends.

Physical.

Emotional.

Spiritual.

Pain is pain.

And I wish that I could wish it away.

It's beginning to look like we actually might get some rain. The humidity is rising and my hands are beginning to throb. Yep, it's just another night in paradise. I've been using the new pain cream that I bought and I think it really does help the pain in my legs a little bit. So, as I sit here knowing it's going to be a long night, I read some emails from friends. Emails that expressed concern, emails that revealed dejection and depression and emails that told me about pain.

I've always said pain is pain. It doesn't matter how we think about it. All that matters is how the person who is in pain feels about it.

From the moment we open our eyes to the moment we close them we're engaged in battle.  The women I know who battle pain day in and day out are amazingly strong. We all think we're wimps but nothing is farther from the truth. We battle depression that springs from pain. We battle constant pain that ranges from throbbing to gut wrenching. We battle ourselves because we constantly think that we're inadequate. 

I think most of us deal with the issue of perfection and the fact that we'll never reach it. We are learning that it's okay to be human. Instead of looking at it as failure we are learning to accept ourselves. Instead of having a rigid view of life, we are learning to be flexible. Part of it is that we have kept a part of ourselves private. Privacy was something I valued above all else. Blogging, however, changed all of that. I learned about myself and I learned that there are people that I've never met who accept me for myself more than my own family. I have opened up more on this blog than I ever thought I would and I found out that others did the same thing.

I found out that this invisible illness has made us visible.

We decided that we wanted to be educated and educate others about this mysterious illness that plagues us. We became seekers. We've waded through the swamps to find out the truth. We found out that what works for some may not work for us. We're learning that we must discard the negative feelings that come from the supposed well-wishers who dispense unwanted medical advice. Advice that basically says we've done this to ourselves and if we want to get better we must get up and move around. We have become our own doctors because we found out that we know more about us than they do.

We are the people of duality. We are stoic and we are tender. We are strong and yet we are weak. We are the wimps and the warriors. We are the brave and yet we're cowards. We stand tall and unafraid but yet we fear. We are rigid but yet we are flexible. We are reserved and private but yet so open and vulnerable. It's no wonder that we're confused. There are times that we don't know which way to go.

So tonight is going to be a very long night. I've taken pain medication and the muscle spasms are still breaking through. The pain is reaching levels that will keep me awake most of the night.  I know that I'm not the only one who goes through this. We all have times like this and I think about the people that I've been blessed to meet through this blog. When you have nights or times like the one I'm having tonight be comforted in knowing that you're not alone. That thought has gotten me through some very tough times.

So to you my friends:

I wish you freedom from pain.

I wish you sound sleep.

I wish you comfort.

I wish you strength.

But most of all, I wish all your wishes come true.

I

BY THE CHOICES WE MAKE

By the choices we make we create the life that we have.

Years ago a dear friend said this to me. We were discussing one of his girlfriends and she, in my opinion, had made a stupid decision not to marry him. Her life was in shambles and she just left. He said this about her. Carry forward and now this quote is still haunting me. I've never forgotten it.

When you really examine it you start to look at the choices you could have made and didn't. You also look at the choices you made to go forward but, in reality, they were choices to cover up the past. Is it a desire to move forward or a result of childhood baggage we still carry? Is it baggage that we don't even know we still carry?

Is the "me" that I see unworthy or unlovable? Where did this come from? Was the wound in childhood so severe that my choices based on this fear perpetuated it?  If it was a wound from childhood, why can't I remember it? Usually it's based on a trauma and the only one I can remember is the loss of my parents. Both sets. Somehow, there is a nagging feeling that  something is still in there that I can't quite put my finger on.

I think age matters.


As we get older I think it's only natural to look back. Hindsight and maturity bring a different perspective to life decisions. I think needs change also. What was important to me in my 20's and 30's is not where I am now. Basic needs never change but emotional needs do change.


What are my emotional needs? Even now, I'm not quite sure. Knowing requires getting through all the muck and walls I've created over the years to keep the imperfect and vulnerable from showing. I don't think many of us enjoy being open and vulnerable. To us "intimacy-phobes" it's the silver bullet. 


On the other hand, is there a possibility of too much truth about yourself? Why do I feel like I have to have all the answers? Maybe it is really a case of "if it's not broke, don't fix it." If we are living life without too many problems......who cares? Why do I have to be open and vulnerable? Do I really want to know?


Yes, I do.

Being vulnerable is a HUGE pile of leaves. If we would just rake them once in a while; all those emotional leaves would be nicely piled up, put in a garbage bag and thrown out. The problem is we let the leaves pile up and then when you try to have fun and jump in you find that they've been there so long the ones at the bottom are all yucky and icky. It's like trying to jump into a giant compost heap.


I'm wading into the pile of leaves that I raked.  It feels very icky at the bottom and I haven't even begun to get through it all. As I look around I take a big sigh. On top of all that I haven't even begun to start pulling the weeds.