Ask?

I don't ask for help well.  Actually, I don't ask for help.

I grew up on a farm.  If you see a job that needs to be done, you do it.  You pull the weeds, feed the cows, fix the fence, mow the lawn, and haul the wood.  After I turned 13, I usually came home and took care of the house.  It wasn't uncommon to come home, start a fire (our only source of heat), start dinner and do some laundry before my mom got home.  I didn't mind.  It's what you do when you are a family and things need to be done.

Unfortunately, that time taught me to get the work done.  It also taught me what I am capable of.

When my oldest daughter was 18 months old, my husband got strep throat which turned into mono. For six weeks I dealt with two 2-year old dogs, my own daughter and a friend of mine's 18 month old son, and a husband who couldn't get out of bed or feed himself.  He lost over 30 pounds while he drank Ensure to give him enough calories to somewhat sustain him.  At the time, he was a youth pastor at a church.  During the 6 weeks, the other pastors came once to pray for him.  No one called.  No one stopped by.  We were known by everyone in the church, yet I was alone and other than the mowing of the lawn everything was taken care of.  One nice lady the pastors didn't like called to see what she could do.  I was too young to understand that I should have let her help me.  I just handled it.

Cancer took me out in a much greater way than my husband's illness.  I didn't get anything done.  I tried to ask for help, but I didn't do a good job or people offered to help without meaning it. People would tell me to let them know how they could help.  When I told them I needed my house cleaned, they laughed like I was telling a joke.  I let it go.  I actually needed that help, but I failed to make that known.  My husband was making meals, my girls were doing extra chores on top of their school work.

MS threw me over the edge.  I finally asked for a little help.  I had some dear friends that jumped at the opportunity to vacuum for me.  It was difficult.  I had to watch them clean my house.  I felt miserable not able to take care of my home while others did it for me.

Did I feel shame at my weakness?  Did I feel less than because I couldn't handle everything?  I don't know the answer to any of these questions.  I know that I am terrible at asking for help.  I will hurt myself with overwork before I ask for help.  That sounds like pride.  I am the oldest.  I was always the quiet one, perhaps I need to prove myself, but to whom?

I'm taking the day off of work tomorrow because this week has beat me up.  Even that is difficult.  I feel badly that I took a day off.  I feel like I'm cheating.  I know I'm not, but it is difficult.  I want to explain it to everyone, but I realize that ultimately I am doing what I know is right for me.  I will fail at my job if I am exhausted and will be no good for anyone.  I am putting myself first and listening to myself, but it isn't easy.  I am fighting my nature to do this.