I Don’t Need Any Help, or Do I?
That Little Voice
When I don’t feel well, I’m not a kind, thoughtful, or caring person, and it is recommended people stay far away from me, even those who want to help.
Other folks, much sicker and with much more serious illnesses than my simple food poisoning bout, can be calm, considerate, upbeat and even pleasant as they suffer through bouts of nausea and pain.
Me, not so much. It is embarrassing to admit I simply want to curl up in a ball, suck my thumb, eat chicken soup I don’t cook, and feel righteously sorry for myself.
My brain seems to revert to my 4-year-old self, wanting comfort while wallowing in wretched anger and frustration. I don’t want to be sick, but don’t have the energy to protest and kick the illness into the bucket of self-pity.
Obviously, I am recovering from my latest ‘feeling awful’ conflict, and the final score was Bowels 4, Margo 0. That does not include the tally for Margo vs. Stomach Upheaval. Margo lost that one too.
Why, I ask myself, is it so easy to acknowledge sickness but not my need for help? I hate to ask for assistance, some inner voice keeps screaming I’m inadequate, unworthy, weak. I may be all those things, but what does that have to do with someone bringing me electrolytes or necessary meds?
I guess I detest being seen as feeble or frail. At my age, it would be okay to admit I’m old, needy, and require bodily aid, but pride doesn’t allow such admissions. I guess it is better to be seen crawling on all fours to get to the kitchen sink rather than requesting someone bring me a glass of water.
Pride, a deterrent to common sense, locks me in the belief of unworthiness.
It is a delimna many of us look at with distain: being helpless, not able to care for ourselves, needing but fearful of acknowledging that need. What if we don’t get love, care, help? What if no one cares? What if, what if, what if?
The ability to ask may be the epitome of humility.And accepting the hand held out to me may be the greatest gift ever given.
Who benefits the most: the giver or the recipient? It is a joint journey, one pulling while the other pushs as we explore the perils of our vulnerabilities.