0008-Asking for Help - Exploring why I don't
You guys know who you are...You don't ask for help. You don't see a reason to ask for help. You may have even asked for help in the past and were left empty-handed. I hear you. I see you. And while I don't have all the answers for you, with a little hive mind inquiry I think a likely culprit was discovered – obligation.
Have a listen and please be sure to drop me a note and tell me what you think. Anything else to add?
Transcript from the show:
_____________________
Storytime!
My therapist asked
me, "So when you were a kid, what happened when you asked for help from
your parents?" Chuckling at the thought, I said, "I never
asked." See - my past has curated self-sufficiency so strongly for me that
even as a kid, I resisted asking for help. I didn't anticipate actually getting
help, so I never asked. I just did what I could on my own or I didn't do it at
all.
Here, let me share a
few examples of things I did on my own that kinda demonstrate the lengths I'd
go to, to not ask for help.
I remember the first
time I got lice. I'm not sure entirely, but I think there was some general
fuss, not necessarily directed at me, about how I could have gotten it and then
some griping at the expense of the treatment. I think, in a way, that discussion
made me feel bad and dirty, like it was my fault.
I'm don't think that
the treatment got rid of them the first time either. I remember standing in the
bathroom running my hands through my hair over the sink, scratching them off my
head , watching them fall into the sink, and feeling absolutely disgusted and
overwhelmed.
Trying to figure out
if there was anything I could do, I remembered that people would wash
flea-ridden dogs in Dawn dish soap since it would smother and suffocate the
fleas. I figured I'd give it a go. I mean really, what did I have to lose
except the lice? I got in the shower and loaded my head up with Dawn. I made
sure every strand was covered and I let it sit while I washed the rest of my
body before I washed it out. After I got out of the shower, I spent even more
time with the lice comb, methodically picking through my hair and making sure
all the eggs were scraped off. I then went and washed all my bedding. I washed
my hair brushes as well.
I never got lice
again. I think that was somewhere around the age of 12-13, but I'm not sure. I
suppose it's irrelevant.
This next story, I'm
probably going to lose a few male listeners, but I feel it's a fairly important
example. Yes, it's about periods. If that's making you squeamish at the
thought, you may need to take a look at what kind of plant that is in your
garden. Maybe. Perhaps. I won't get super descriptive or anything, so take some
solace in that.
Anyway.
I don't remember my mom specifically having
the "period" talk with me. I think I'd mostly learned about it in
magazines I'd read and from sex ed and health classes in school. When I started
my period, I knew what it was. I used some of my mom's pads that first time and
went about my business. It showed up again a couple months later while I was in
school and I wasn't prepared. I was too scared to say anything to my teacher
and since it was the last class of the day when I noticed, I figured I'd just
try to make it until I got home. I pulled my pants up as high as I could
without looking awkward and dropped my bookbag as far down my back as I could.
At that point, I just prayed I would make the walk home without too much of a
fuss.
I got home and went
to the bathroom to survey the damage. Oh the HORROR that awaited me! I'll put
it this way, there's no way my bookbag trick did a thing to shield what had
happened. Fortunately, no one else walking home from school that day ever
mentioned it. It was mortifying enough that I didn't need another person
sharing what they saw with me. But I digress. Gah.
I stayed more
prepared as the months went on and my parents finally sat me down for a talk.
They noticed the pads were disappearing more quickly and wanted to make sure
that's what was going on. I confirmed, and then also had to answer the question
asked by the stepbastard whether I wanted to keep using those or if I wanted
tampons. I'm pretty sure I felt shame as I avoided eye contact with him, my
abuser, and admitted I'd rather have the tampons. Of course, I never said the
word "tampon" and wouldn't, going forward. Somehow or another, they
became coined "thingies" and that's what I wrote up on the dry erase
board when I needed them. I never actually had to say that I needed
"thingies" either. I could just write it on the board and pretend it
showed up there, magically or something.
I was generally good
in school, so even homework wasn't a thing I asked for help on. Either I
understood it and answered the questions correctly, or I didn't, and didn't. I
had more problems with focusing on classwork and actually doing my homework
than asking either parent for help with something. I still managed to pass my
classes though.
Even Christmas wish
lists - those were written down and put somewhere "public." I didn't
have to discuss anything with anyone.
Speaking of things I
wanted, that does remind me of a few things I did ask for, growing up.
I loved horses as a
child and was aware enough to know that my parents wouldn't be buying me a
pony. In lieu of asking directly for that, I ALWAYS asked for riding lessons.
Every single Christmas until wish lists stopped being a thing. I never got
them.
Somewhere around age
8 or 9, I asked to take karate classes. I wanted to defend myself in case a
bully (any bully) started a fight with me so I would know what to do to protect
myself. My parents thought it was cute, especially when I bought a karate book
at one of those scholastic book fairs. But nope, classes cost money, so that
wouldn't be happening. (Also, it would have given me resources to be more of a
threat to the stepbastard, so you KNOW that wasn't ever going to happen, though
I didn't realize it at the time)
And then, somewhere
near age 12, after having a molar crack while chewing gum, I asked my parents
if I could get braces.
"No, we don't
have the money for that."
Gee. Thanks.
I have held
resentment for that for a LONG time, especially after going through the expense
on my own to get them fixed as an adult. And at that point, it wasn't just
braces, but also crowns and bridges. This is one of my "shoulds" but
- if you're gonna have kids, be prepared to spend money on medical shit like
this. I didn't ask to be brought into this world. I also didn't ask to be left
with the massive expense of fixing my teeth since my parents couldn't be
bothered with it. But, here we are. Here I am.
Gah…it just
frustrates me, you guys. My crooked teeth caused plenty of ridicule while
growing up and I'm very much still angry at the fact they didn't try or even
plan for it. Yes mom, call me "beautiful" while "forcing"
me to live with this trashy mouth. Sure. I believe you. Right.
Oh, and then of
course there were those times I sought out help from my mom on stopping the
sexual abuse which was only partly effective. Sort of.
As it is today, I
typically only ask for help if there's something I'm physically unable to do -
like, I need another set of actual hands. Otherwise, I'll just make
modifications to what or how I'm doing something to make it work by myself. Or
I'll just do the thing.
It's rare I ask for
help with chores. I don't ask for help unloading things, even if it would go
faster with another person. If someone offers to help, I normally tell the
other person it's not a big deal and that I've got it.
I feel like if I ask
for help, I'm making demands. I know both have completely separate
connotations, but it's hard for me to see them that way. I think my therapist
asked me why I don't ask for help. My response was, "why would I?" I
have SO much reinforcement from my childhood that asking for things means
nothing. I don't get the help. I haven't gotten the help.
It's a wonder I made
it into therapy, ya know? That's probably one of the biggest things someone can
ask for help with - "I feel broken. Something is wrong. Can you
help?" I resisted it for years. Whenever someone suggested therapy or
counseling to me, I'd shrug it off. "No, it's honestly not that bad. Sure,
bad shit happened to me, but I'm okay."
I mean, I was okay
right? I didn't turn to promiscuity or self-harm or drug use. I had a job. I
had an education. I was able to make friends and was "pretty good"
about getting into long term relationships. So, what else could I possibly need
to talk with anyone about? Would they want to put me on meds just because I
came in? No, no thanks. I'm good.
Then I get with a
guy who's everything I've ever wanted. And we go through struggles. And then my
friendships start fading. Then I start fading. Then I see me falling back into
the same trap of emotion stuffing and pushing everyone away. I read old journals
and see me doing the SAME EXACT THING. And since that was the past, I knew how
those things turned out. I'd run. I'd abandon the things that stressed me out,
including people, and start over.
Between those
realizations and a new friend who took interest in me and my well-being, I
decided to try. I decided to seek out therapy for help. The alternative was
going to be divorce which would have carried the heavy guilt of it, for not
having tried much at all.
*sigh* I've
struggled a bit with this episode, you guys. I really wanted to dive into the
reasons why shifting my view on this would be beneficial, but it's still so
early in the game for me. It's at the stage where I KNOW I need to get over
myself and start asking for help, but, it's hard. I don't have many experiences
to base things off of on WHY there's a benefit to changing my ways, with the
exception of easing the work load and allowing people in. And I'm so accustomed
to just doing the things that the concept of asking for help is just plain
foreign to me. So, knowing that, how could I reasonably encourage anyone else
to start asking for more help, in their own lives?
I polled my Facebook
friends about this to get the brain going. I asked them, "How do you feel
about asking for help? (Beyond things you are physically not capable of
accomplishing alone) What things do you ask for help with?"
Now, of course this
was an extremely unofficial poll and completely not scientific, but the
majority of the people who answered indicated they also resisted asking for
help. It's common. Those that said they were good with asking for help noted
that the reduction of work load helped them feel more relaxed, overall. Less
burdened, if you will.
One interesting
tidbit that surfaced - obligation. To a point, asking for help makes some of us
feel obligated to the person that helped us. The way this plays out for me is
that, if I ask for help from you, and you later ask for something from me, I'll
feel indebted, even if I'm not the one best suited to help you. I feel that
it's my responsibility to return the favor, even if it doesn't "feel
right." And, when it comes to someone (ME!) that doesn't recognize their
worth or their knowledge, it gets really uncomfortable being called upon.
One friend
counteracted obligation with gratitude, and I think that speaks volumes on a
perception that many of us may have. If we approach asking for help from others
as though we are automatically going to be obligated to help them in the
future, we're already off on the wrong foot!
Imagine if we
approached it from a different perspective, one where we asked without any
expectations of returning the favor and how we may fall short on returning the
favor.
Imagine that we
asked and then accepted that person's answer, unconditionally. And IF we got a
yes, after letting all that expectation go, imagine how feelings of gratitude
would come in to fill that space where obligation used to live! I like the idea
of replacing obligation with gratitude, very much.
I do think
obligations are gonna be a tough one to pull from the garden. It's one plant
that can grow wildly large if left unattended, especially if you're the people
pleaser type. Some folks, myself included, take on more than they should and
obligations just pile up.
What does your plant
of obligation look like? Creeping Jenny with its golden hue and knack for
growing anywhere? Mint, with its ability to get tall and bushy looking, smells
good when you mess with the plant but is terribly difficult to get rid of if it
gets somewhere you don't want it?
Yeah, I think mine
is like mint.
Anyway, thanks for
listening guys! Your support means a lot to me, even if it's just a simple
share on social media or to a friend or family member who you feel might enjoy
the podcast too. Don't forget to send me an email at
questionyourgarden@gmail.com if you have something you'd like to share with me.
Also, I can't forget to give a shout out to both Kevin MacLeod at
Incompetech.com and Scott Buckley at scottbuckley.com.au for the music
transitions they provided for use in the show. Be sure to check out the show
notes for any links or additional information from the episode.
Until next time,
keep weeding!
Intro Audio: "Cold Sober" Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0
Transition Audio:
"Wonderful" Scott Buckley (scottbuckley.com.au)
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