I have asked for more help in the past month than I think I have done at any other point in my life. These are some of the things that have happened:
My back gave way and I ended up on the floor unable to get up.
I took on a piece of work that I just didn’t have time to deliver.
I needed emergency care for my dog after a dog-sitter cancelled on me.
I had to stay overnight in London and needed a friend’s spare room to crash in.
My flat was flooded and needed extensive repairs.
Some of these things are bigger than others but all in all, the past 30 days have been a lot. However, one thing I’ve tried to do in the middle of it all is lean into other people and let them support me. My therapist would be so proud.
What this has looked like in actuality is understanding who in my circle can offer which skills I need, calling on them and then not fighting the advice. You might think that the hard part is asking for help in the first place but what I’ve noticed is that actually the hardest bit, the part I find most painful, is then accepting it. Let me give you an example.
A few weeks ago I noticed my back, that has always been a bit dodgy, was worse than usual. A week of delivering in-person training that had seen my daily step count double, followed by a week of delivering on-line training that had seen it plummet, was too confusing for the slipped disc in my lower back and it flared up. For days I was waking up in agony, walking around bent over at a 90 degree angle and generally feeling pretty sorry for myself.
Eventually I found myself lying flat on the floor, on the phone to a GP who prescribed some of the really good painkillers. The only problem - the painkillers were at the pharmacy and I couldn’t stand, much less drive myself the half an hour there and back. So I had to call a friend. Because I’m in the countryside now, the number of people within “popping round” distance has become much smaller but I knew there were two who were in the vicinity. I also knew that both of them had other plans for that day.
Of course, they both came to my aid. One went to the pharmacy and picked up my prescription, the other came with bags of food and fed me butternut squash ravioli as I lay on the floor waiting for the drugs to kick in. I felt immense gratitude for both of them. But the following day I noticed something else kick in.
I still felt gratitude but I also felt debt, how could I make it up to them? What could I do for them that would even the score? To be clear, neither of them needed me to do this or had suggested anything of this sort, it was entirely my brain’s own discomfort with receiving help that made me start to wonder when either of them would need a care package delivery in the near future
I know I’m not alone in this anxiety. Last year I asked the readers of this newsletter to tell me about what stopped them asking for help and a recurring theme was the feeling that they would somehow be in someone’s debt if they did so. We’ve ingested the need to be self-sufficient so strongly that any suggestion otherwise makes us crawl with unease. It’s a shame because in reality being able to help someone in need for no other reason than you care about them and you’re able to, is one of the loveliest feelings in the world. When we start treating help as an equation that has to be equalled we deny others that feeling. Just noticing that I was feeling like I was in their debt and having a stern word with myself helped. Do I still have moments where I start thinking I should be making it up to them in some way? Yes. But I also trust that they’re adults, if they needed to say no to me, they would have.
There’s also something about receiving help that challenges my sense of identity. I think of myself as someone who is “good in a crisis”. However the reality of this is that I am good when other people have a crisis. I am not, it turns out, quite so good when I have a crisis. On two occasions this month my sister has had to wade in to save me. It shouldn’t be surprising that she is also someone who is “good in a crisis” - after all that’s a skill you learn in childhood and we both grew up in the same household.
When my back saw me end up in hospital and then a few weeks later my flat flooded, it was my sister I called panicking. It was my sister who got me home while off my face on morphine and my sister who calmly listened to my rant about the ineptitude of tradesmen before quickly finding me people who could come in the next day to resolve the problem.
At first I felt bad about this. I’m the older sister, I should be able to look after not just myself but her as well. Being “good in a crisis” is who I am so what does it mean when I can’t cope? Well, it means I’m someone who has dealt with a several stressful situations in a row and that sometimes I need to lean on people to do that. It means my sister is much better at dealing with numbers, project plans and admin than I am, and while she might be regretting showing me these skills when I call her ten times a day to complain about something else that has gone wrong, I’m also acknowledging how talented she is in this area and how lucky I am to be supported by that talent.
I can still have “good in a crisis” as part of my identity. I can still help others with their problems, still be calm when things are stressing out other people in my life. But I don’t have to be good in every crisis. And to be honest, right now, that’s a relief.
What do you notice comes up for you when you accept help? Does it feel like a relief or does a small voice pop up and say, “you should be able to deal with this yourself?” If it’s the latter, let me give you a piece of advice that I pass onto all my coaching clients. That voice is not helpful and you’re never going to be able to creatively problem solve while you’re listening to them. So visualise the voice, get an image of it standing out in front of you and then… give it a kick up the butt and send it on its way. You deserve to be helped, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
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I think if we have always been the "big sister" or the person who is independent, it feels hard-wired to just get on with it and not ask for help. I've learnt this year to ask for help without feeling like I'm in debt and it never comes easy. Recently I sent thank you cards to people who had helped me, I just wanted them to know that I really did appreciate it and it was heartfelt. Sorry you have had such a tough time and I hope your back is on the mend (and the flat!!) xx