I Asked For Help
Last week, right after we found out my in-laws are expecting, I knew I was taking it pretty hard, as was pretty evidently in my post. Then the week just kept getting worse with frustrating adoption stuff and an ankle injury.
I reached out, I let in-real-life friends in and I even asked for help.
I started by emailing a very dear friend who lives in a different city and venting. I felt like an insensitive ass myself, as she is going through her own stuff and instead I dumped mine on her. As always, she was amazing and has been nothing but supportive – you know, just how true friends really are!
Then, I asked a very good friend to meet up for lunch as I needed out of the house and I needed to talk. She unfortunately was busy, but not too busy to impart a few very important pieces of wisdom. First, she reminded me how much she cares about me, and wants to help. She tried to come see me that night instead, which of course didn’t fit my schedule. Then, most importantly she called me. We are awesome friends, but we always tend to text – neither of us are big phone people. Anyways, I missed her call, but she said something very poignant in her message “when you call our for help, that means you really need help.”
And while our schedules were not going to allow us to meet up, she was so right with that comment. I never ask for help, and I just did.
I thought of calling a few other friends, but it just didn’t feel right – most of our friends have young families, and I didn’t want my emotional response to my BIL to make them feel bad for how they may have told us about their pregnancies (in which they were drastically more sympathetic and loving). But, I was concerned that my emotions would be mus-interpreted as also being upset with them, which is just not the case.
My next step was to call my counsellor’s clinic and ask for a cancellation appointment if one comes available. Of course, that would not work out for me, as her booking coordinator is on vacation.
So, I stewed over the decision to reach out for a few more hours. And during this time, I remembered my friends words, I only ask for help when I really need it. So, I worked up the nerve to call my counsellor directly. (Yes, I do have her direct cell phone number – I hated the thought of using it, absolutely hated the thought).
Anyways, I got her voicemail and actually left a message. She back within a few hours – I suspect she knows that if I called her directly something big had happened. We talked for a bit on the phone and she reinforced that all my emotions right now are normal and justified. In the end she promised to try to get me in when she has a cancellation come up.
Part of me really hates that I phoned her directly – I hate feeling so hurt that I don’t know how to fix it myself. Part of me hates that I needed to call a paid professional, yet I do realize that the reason I phoned her is because she is a professional who will actually understand or at least appreciate where my emotions are coming from. And you know what, the other part of me just hates that I had to ask for help – I really do hate asking for help (funny how well my friend knows me).
But, another part of me realizes that I really shouldn’t overlook just how important it is that I asked for help. I would never have asked for help three years ago, and now I am asking friends who I trust, and calling in the experts when I really need one. While I may not be breaking down walls, and in fact may have started re-building some walls, it has to be a good thing that I did reach out to someone. Right? Maybe I should consider this personal growth for my type-a personality who loves to control everything and do everything on my own?
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