Asking for help is really hard. I have talked many times about the amazing support given to us by friends and family. I know deep in my heart and soul that we wouldn’t have made it through the last few months without the help all of these people have provided, but it is STILL difficult to ask for help and accept the fact that we (I) need it. 

Asking for help exposes a vulnerability. I know I’m not the only one, but I will speak for myself: on some level in my brain, accepting help makes me feel like I’m not enough to do things on my own. I have a script running in the back of my mind that I should be able to do it all myself, alone, without help. I should be able to keep everyone happy and healthy and clean and fed on my own. I should be able to do a room makeover to bring the boys immense joy (see these photos of the amazing room makeovers by Special Spaces) on my own. Honestly, full-time work on top of taking care of kids and trying to keep the house clean was already too much for me to handle BEFORE little man got sick. The deck was stacked against me, but I still felt and feel this weight of responsibility. 

Let me also point out that this makes even less sense when you consider that I’m NEVER on my own. I’m lucky to have an amazing husband and partner who carries a lot of the load as well. But still, fair or not, as the woman/wife in charge of this household, I feel like I’m the one being judged if someone comes into our house, and it’s messy. It is always messy.

The other issue I didn’t think about until the diagnosis is that a lot of the time, I don’t know what I need help with. I don’t even know what to ask for. Sometimes I just know I’m drowning and treading water furiously, but I don’t know how to take the next step to say, please throw me a life preserver, you know, if you have time and it isn’t too inconvenient. Let me say as clearly as possible that this is IN NO WAY a criticism of people who have offered help or brought food or watched the boys. There have been people who have shown up with food, or even just texted or called at the right time and listened as I ranted about the unfairness of the universe. I cannot express strongly enough how thankful I am for these people. There have been even more people who have offered to help, and I can tell they really mean it, but I don’t know what to ask for. Or I know that what I really need is a LOT, and asking for it seems like way too much to put on someone else. “Please clean my house, friends, because germs now suddenly send me hurtling towards a panic attack,” seems like a huge ask.

I didn’t think I was like this. I guess I’ve never needed help like this before. I know these things running in my head are wrong, that my brain is a liar sometimes, but they’re there, these thoughts. I have to fight them back, and it is exhausting. After Special Spaces left last week, I had such a raging mix of emotions, I wasn’t even sure if I felt like laughing or crying. I did neither. I was frozen. I stared into space for a while like a computer needing a reboot. The “we can handle this” pep talks have morphed into “we have to handle ALL of this alone” somehow. Let me reiterate that we are in no way alone. 

Lately, the pep talks have been different. They’ve been more like, “People want to help, so we should let them.” Once help arrives in whatever form it’s been offered, everyone feels good. The guilt I feel about asking for help, about what it’ll feel like to receive said help, is gone. The entire conflict has occurred internally, as it tends to go with a large number of my battles. 

This post is not about getting people to offer us help. It’s to tell you my experience, and maybe you can learn from it. Maybe you need help but don’t know how to ask. I don’t always know either, but you’re not alone, and hopefully that’s some comfort. Sending love.