To be honest...

Asking for help is one of my worst things. I know I am not alone; in fact, I am pretty sure lots of people experience this resistance to what feels like an admission of failure. But if ever I was in any doubt as to whether this is a problem, I am now convinced that not only is being able to ask for help essential for my own well-being; it is the rising tide that floats all boats. It strengthens and heals us all.

 

Why is it so hard to ask for help? Ah, let me count the ways. I’m intelligent and capable. I’ve overcome difficulties and survived losses. I have done the work and developed a solid self. I have raised two kids with whom I have loving and meaningful relationships. And then there is what I do for a living – I’m supposed to be helping other people! Hearing their struggles, offering counsel, providing answers.

 

About six weeks ago, though, I had a “come to Jesus” moment. Yes, I’m hard-headed; it took a pandemic, but now I’m finally paying attention. Now I’m coming out from behind the curtain of my high-functioning, has-it-all-together persona and letting myself be seen.

 

So what went wrong? Well, pretty much everything. At least, that’s how it felt. In the beginning, sheltering in place was actually a relief. I reveled in the freedom of not having to go into the office. Of setting my own schedule and taking long evening walks with Gracie. I loved being in my home (and still do); it is so peaceful, a great place to work. I even returned to playing the beautiful family piano that sits silent in my living room so much of the time.  

 

But as the weeks turned into months, the loss of human contact, the we-are-bodies-in-the-same-space interactions, was grinding me down. I didn’t realize it at first – just kept reminding myself of all that I had to be grateful for (wonderful work, loving friends, safe environment, healthy body) and blamed myself for not being stronger. Until the day when I finally said out loud how much I was struggling to a wise mentor, who told me that it was time to get proactive. To develop some strategies for getting what I needed. To get over myself, and start asking for help.

 

So I did. And the good news is, it worked. I started by figuring out what I needed and imagining how those needs might be met. Then, even though it felt embarrassing, I began asking. It was amazing how kind people were; how willing to be part of my survival plan. What’s more, now that I was open to receiving help, I started noticing unexpected, unsolicited moments of generosity and grace. And recognizing how they were also part of a slow and gentle process of my getting better.

 

As I continue in my recovery from the fear of asking for help, what I have also learned is that when I do take the risk of opening up and being vulnerable to other people I am helping them too. Because, as it turns out, helping others can and does make people healthier and happier. In a recent episode of a podcast called “The Happiness Lab”, researchers discovered that people who are great helpers don’t start out that way. They begin helping in small ways and find joy in it; and over time that positive feedback loop spurs them on to more and greater acts of caring and service to others.

 

So this asking for and giving help to one another becomes the means by which we all are, in ways large and small, visible and invisible, strengthened and blessed. And the more broadly we are able to apply that concept, the wider its impact becomes. Our Jewish sisters and brothers see our participation in this greater project as the holy work of human beings created in the image of God; it is tikkun olam, the repairing or healing of the world.

 

I wish I could say that asking for help is no longer difficult for me. But it’s a process. And so today, and tomorrow too, I (still) need to remember. It is okay; it is more than okay, to ask  for help.