I don't ask for help. From anyone. Ever. Not until I've been pushed well passed my breaking point. Then, and only then, will I ask my husband for help; and he damn well better step up because I will be seconds from some sort of breakdown, almost always including tears.
I know that I have a problem not asking for help, and I've spent hours (literally) trying to figure out why I have this pride that makes it so hard for me to admit to anyone that I need a break or assistance. I wish I could say that my parents raised me weirdly, and that made me into this super independent person who can't reach out, even when I need it. Unfortunately, that's just not the case.
My parents did raise us all to be independent and take care of ourselves, but they never once said (or even implied) that it was weak to ask for help or admit that you can't do it all alone. Somewhere along the line, I got that in my head though, and it has made things harder for me over the years.
I've gotten myself in plenty of tight spots, then refused to tell anyone that I was struggling, because I didn't want to look weak or inept. I would rather drown under the weight and pressure of whatever predicament I'm in than ask someone to lift the load for me.
Let me say, I don't see it as weakness when others ask for help, and I will jump any time someone reaches out to me. Hell, I will take on more than I can possibly handle if I think it will help them out. That gets me in a lot of trouble sometimes too. I am incapable of saying no if someone asks me for help, but I'm also incapable of asking for it myself.
I wish I knew where all this came from, so I could avoid having my boys turn out this way.
Thankfully, my husband has learned the warning signs that I'm getting too close to my breaking point and he steps in without being asked. He's an amazing person and I know I wouldn't be where I am if it weren't for him. He keeps me sane. He gets me through panic attacks and helps me stay focused when my mind starts a downward spiral into a black hole of "what if".
I know I make things harder for myself by refusing to reach out until it's almost too late, but I'm stubborn. I like to think I'm Wonder Woman. I convince myself that I made these little people, I run this house, so I should be capable of doing it, without trouble or assistance, all day everyday. Rationally, that's obviously crazy, but who ever said I was rational?
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Writer and Contributor for the Motherhood Community