Why it's Good to Accept Help
Photo by Yoksel Zok on Unsplash
“Blessed are those who can give without remembering and take without forgetting.”
~ Elizabeth Bibesco
This is one of my favorite times of year, as the ice begins to melt, and the tiniest of buds begin to appear on my forsythia, one of the earliest heralds of spring. I’m fortunate that in North Carolina, where I live, spring comes earlier than it does in many parts of the country.
I’ll be using the coming explosion of new growth for inspiration over the next few months. How exciting that we are all starting to shake off this year-long hibernation and begin to open up to the world and each other again!
We’re just back from our daughter’s house. As we drove south, we were amazed to see that in just the 10 days we’d been gone, many of the trees and some of the flowers had come into bloom already. The experience brought back a memory of the very first time our family drove from Philadelphia to Raleigh, which happened to be in March, to visit a brother who had just moved here. When we left the northeast there was snow on the ground, and as we approached Raleigh, we were treated to a deep Carolina blue sky. The red dirt, green grass, and blooming trees all felt like part of an over-colored painting—much like the sudden switch from black and white to technicolor in this famous scene in The Wizard of Oz.
Two days after we got home, my sister sent me a selfie of her holding our new granddaughter. She lives just over an hour away and had come to help our daughter for the day. The week before that, my brother, who lives even closer, had gone over to watch baby girl’s big brother when our daughter and her husband went to the hospital. Since we’re six hours away, we didn’t arrive until the next day.
As close siblings, we are all so fond of each other’s children (all 17 of them!), and we help each other out whenever we can. It takes a village, right? It’s wonderful, except…I feel a twinge of discomfort when I need to ask for help for myself or one of my kids. I seem to be much more comfortable offering assistance than accepting it.
But why is that?
When I disclosed my feelings to a friend, she reminded me of all the years I took care of our mom, and how my siblings were probably happy for the chance to do something for me.
Huh. Wonder why I didn’t think of that?
Lately some newer friends have been very generous with gifts—dropping special items off on my porch. My initial joyful reaction is soon tempered with the thought that I’m not keeping up. The same friend reminded me that my weekly blog post could be considered a gift to them, and maybe they feel moved to do something for me in return.
Huh. I didn’t think of that either.
Over the years I have come to embrace my high level of sensitivity, but it has its costs. For example, knowing how I feel when I perceive that people are imposing on me, I don’t ever want to make anyone feel that way. But does that mean I can’t on occasion ask for help for myself or my kids?
So many of our issues stem from childhood, if we can only work ourselves back to what the initial cause is.
Curious about it, I did some reflection about what was triggering those feelings, and this is what came up for me:
As a fairly young child I was sent to neighbors’ homes to ask to borrow an egg or a cup of sugar whenever my mom was cooking and ran out of an important item. It might seem strange now, but it was a custom in the ‘50s and ‘60s when many families only had one car. For our family of 10, the largest family on the block, that one egg might have stood in the way of my mom making the family’s meatloaf.
The thing is, I don’t remember anyone ever coming to our house to borrow any food items. Or us replacing the items later. Not only was it embarrassing for a very shy young girl to have to ask a neighbor for help, but in my mind, it represented an imbalance that made me very uncomfortable. Not that it was my responsibility—I was just following instructions.
Recalling these episodes, I can see now that what I was feeling was shame, an emotion I didn’t have words for until well into my adulthood.
Shame is one of the most powerful emotions there is, and one that can impact us dramatically. Most people will do anything to avoid the feeling.
A few weeks ago we talked about our shadow selves, the darker, unseen side of us that holds our negative emotions. I decided that I had been presented with the perfect example to try out the process suggested by psychotherapist Richard Schwartz and explained here.
I started by paying attention to the troubling sensations within my body, identified the source of my feeling (the shame), and asked that “self” what it needed. What it told me is that while borrowing a cup of sugar was a perfectly acceptable custom at the time, one often associated with friendly interactions with neighbors and which opened the door to reciprocity, for me, it was uncomfortable. My introversion, combined with my precocious social conscience, made it mortifying.
My inner little girl needed some compassion for having to do a hard thing. I told her what she needed to hear, based on the suggestions in this article about healing your inner child.
Mentally, I thanked this shadow self for its protective role, and gave it permission to rest, reassuring it that I’d heard its message. I’m still working through it, so every time I think of that little girl, I give her a mental hug.
As an adult I know that reciprocity in relationships gives each person a turn to be the giver and a turn to be the receiver.
If we exclusively give, we rob others of the opportunity to feel the joy inherent in helping others. I realize that I no longer have to carry with me the upsetting feelings experienced by my younger self. It’s okay.
As it turned out, my brother had a blast playing with his little buddy, who adores him, and my daughter almost had to pry the baby out of my sister’s hands at the end of the day. Both siblings were delighted that we’d asked them to help.
Lesson learned.
Affectionately,
Elaine