Lately I’ve been fighting a battle of wanting to remain gracious for all the blessings I have and falling apart from all the stressors currently in my life. I’m exhausted by being exhausted. I want so badly not to need checking up on or to write about something other than sadness, healing, assault, PTSD, and stress. But that is where I am right now.
In the midst of all the other mess, my finances have decided to be an issue. Partially because I haven’t had the energy to devote to getting some needed paperwork in for school stuff, partially because I’m now on disability and haven’t had a full paycheck quite yet. It’s not so much about the money though, it’s about the fact that money is already a sore spot for me. And here I am having to deal with it on top of everything else.
It makes me, for the first time in recent recollection, angry with God. It’s an anger that I know is just me hurting because I don’t feel capable of handling one more thing on my plate. In fact, the plate fell a long time ago and now I’m sitting down among the broken glass and just crying. Why now?
And true to what my mentor said, if anyone were to ask how I am doing I would say fine. I wouldn’t tell them of my inner turmoil. I certainly wouldn’t ask for anything. It’s a lesson I fail over and over again…
Ego: at 31 you shouldn’t need that kind of help. You should be able to stand on your own two feet.
Self: who is to say what kind of help one needs at any point in life? Do not elect to struggle because of pride and then make the world audience to your complaints.
I just want to sleep. As if it’ll all go away then. It won’t but I at least won’t be worried about it. I don’t want to be prideful.
I also don’t want to be learning this lesson at 35. And 42. And 56. There is nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it. Why is it so difficult for me to do it? It does not mean I’m irresponsible or a bad person. Maybe there have been times when I was irresponsible, and maybe there are things I could have done differently. But the stressors currently in my life are not solely my fault. I did not deserve them as a result of my own deficiency.
Grace. I try to remember my therapists challenge to me. Offer yourself grace. I shouldn’t be contributing to my own frustrations right now…
Brené Brown said, “Until we can receive with an open heart, we’re never really giving with an open heart. When we attach judgment to receiving help, we knowingly or unknowingly attach judgment to giving help.” It’s plagued me since I heard her say it. I do not know what judgments I make about those I offer help to, but I am well-versed in the judgments I make about myself. I am not kind to myself when I ask for help. And I project judgments from others onto myself, and then I internalize it. Social media only makes it worse.
For example I explained to Robert that I felt bad for posting happy photos with my family while I was on leave from work. As if every waking moment should be spent suffering. He offered that those in support of my health would be happy to see me happy and would see that the time off was a good thing. The thought never occurred to me.
I don’t want to be unkind to myself. I don’t want to hold myself to impossible standards of complete self sufficiency. I’ve said this before. But here in all my broken glass I think it might just be the opportunity to rewrite the story of what it means to ask for help. What it says about me…and own what a blessing it is to have people I can ask. And who are willing to help.
You are not all the bad things you’ve told yourself you were.