Pride Comes Before The Call... Asking For Help
I HATE asking for help. Like, I loathe it with every fiber of my soul. I’m OCD when it comes to the way I like things done, I have ridiculous systems in place and an order to all things encompassed in the world that revolves around my household. Unfortunately, the plates only stay spinning if I’m in working condition because I’ve created my own mess of cleanliness (yes, I know this is stupid and I’m working on it!). God has picked up my ‘working on it’ pace and brought me straight to a place riddled with moments of helplessness these past few years. First I encountered lifelong neurological deficits and now I’ve had knee surgery gone a bit sideways. You can read those stories in full detail in the following post links:
LIFE WAS A HIGHWAY, NOW IT'S MORE LIKE A COUNTRY BACKROAD . . ..AND I'M THANKFUL!
Anyhow, long story short, we have 3 small children, and my husband Brent’s work shift switches from week to week which has meant we’ve had to ask for A LOT of help over the last 24 months. Between doctors appointments, physical therapy sessions, ER visits, episodes that take me down for anywhere from a few hours to a few days, and an 8-day hospitalization back in February, we’ve had our fair share of juggling responsibilities like a full-fledged circus routine. And just when we thought we had FINALLY cleared most of those major hurdles and settled into somewhat of a ‘new normal,’ I was told I needed minor surgery on my knee. That surgery turned out to be more extensive than expected (story of my life!). What was supposed to be 2 weeks on crutches turned into 4 and what was supposed to be a two-month recovery will now take the better part of a year before I’m up to full activity (thank goodness I should at least be able to freely walk after a few months!).
The trouble was, we had lined up help for two weeks - not four - and the thought of being a burden to anyone by asking for even more assistance at the expense of their already busy lives crushed me at my core. So I figured I’d shoulder whatever gaps needed to be filled in during week three around the last-minute help we had available. This meant my strict ‘no weight bearing’ instructions went out the window as I tried to manage my active kiddos (and the dog and lizard - it’s a zoo here) alone for long stretches of time. There were also dishes, laundry, sports practices, scattered toys, unmade beds, sticky counters, dirty bathrooms. My OCD was in overdrive, my pride was in full force and my knee was SCREAMING.
Then came physical therapy. As I suspected, I had overdone it. My kneecap was collecting fluid and my joint was making a painful clicking sound. I was instructed to call my doc and she said what I dreadfully expected - I needed to take it easy. I cried. This was impossible, right? We’d already maxed out our resources, hadn’t we? I mean, we had asked so much of our immediate family, other family and friends had previously made us meals during my neuro chaos and had recently sent us gift cards for food delivery to alleviate meal prep. There was no way we could ask for MORE help, it felt . . . well . . . humiliating.
Again in tears, I sat down with Brent and asked him what he thought about putting our needs out on social media. This was not in my nature AT ALL but we were somewhat desperate and he thought it was a needed move. So I followed through and hit “post”. Do you know what happened? That drop in pride created a new group of helpers. My cousin offered her sons to mow our lawn, one of my aunts insisted on doing our laundry with another family friend offering as backup, we were referred to a reasonable cleaning woman who is going to help us out with the nitty-gritty stuff (God bless her, seriously!), my daughter’s former teacher told us her girls would be happy to babysit and a friend offered up her pool to help wear the kids out once I’m mobile enough to cart them around. We were so blessed in a matter of minutes.
Pride is a powerful and paralyzing thing, you guys. It blinds us to the reality that we aren’t meant to go it alone. And you know what’s incredibly ironic about this whole darn situation? I might hate asking for help but I LOVE giving it! I get so much joy out of doing things for others. Why in the world would I deprive someone else of that same joy if they are willingly WANTING to serve our family?
So many lessons have been learned in these trying times we are living through. It’s been more eye-opening than anything else we’ve ever had to face. Everyone under our roof is being refined as we slowly walk through these trials by fire and it hurts - bad. But we are better for these experiences and more thankful for the soothing salve of others than we would have ever thought imaginable.
So to those who have stepped up at any point in any way during our crazy journey, we love you and appreciate you so much more than we can put into words. To those who are in need of help, please let go of your pride and reach out to those who surround you with open arms. Give them an opportunity to assist. Some people won’t want to or be able to help at the moment and that’s ok. But the ones who feel alive by being able to give and serve, you will be as much of a blessing to them as they are to you. It’s a beautiful circle of love and I can’t wait to be healthy enough again to jump in on the other end!