Accepting help makes me uncomfortable. My stomach and chest actually tighten. It’s a physical manifestation of the anxiety I feel about accepting help.
Why is it so hard? I know that when I offer help it’s not because I think the person is weak or that they can’t do things for themselves. It’s because I want to make their road a little easier if at all possible. Yet when other people offer to help me I feel like saying yes means I’m weak or a burden. Somehow I tie it to my worth and feel unworthy of other people’s help. Or maybe I worry that they will think I’m unworthy. That they don’t really want to help, but are offering out of politeness, not really expecting me to accept.
Last week I sent an email to my Sunday School class letting them know that I would be having surgery and wouldn’t be able to help my friend as much as I’d like. I got only one reply to that email, so I figured no one was interested in helping me anyway. I mean, they’re already helping my friend and her situation is much more life altering. While it hurt that no one offered to help us out, I knew we’d be able to make do.
This morning when I arrived at church one of the associate pastors that is in charge of the prayer chain for the church made a beeline for me. She said “I hear you’re having surgery. I’m a little late to the party. I know you’ve had several surgeries lately, but I wanted to offer you a prayer shawl.” I told her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted and asked me what my favorite colors are. She gave me a beautiful blue prayer shawl before we left and told me she’d be calling me. It felt very strange, to be honest.
Then a woman from my Sunday School class came up and asked me what they could do to help. I started to say “Oh, we’re fine. Really.” But I stopped myself. Instead I said “Well, I told my kids they were going to have to learn to cook, so maybe meals would be helpful?” So she and a couple of other people in class offered to bring us meals. Which is definitely helpful for my kids and husband, since the task will fall to them while I recover. Then I asked if any of them would be volunteering for VBS and one said her son would be. I asked if she would mind giving my daughter a ride home from VBS so that she didn’t have to walk home in the heat (we live less than a mile from the church). She and her husband were more than willing. She introduced herself to my daughter before we left so that she would know who to look for.
While accepting help, I also admitted that it was very hard for me. I said “I have surgery so often that I feel like if I accept help people will get tired of me.” The majority of the people in class today and offered help are new and haven’t been around for any of my previous surgeries, so I guess that helps.
I’m proud of myself for accepting and asking for help. However, the uncomfortable feeling is still there. When I talked to my therapist last week she asked me what offers of help could mean. I said that when I offer help I do so out of love. But for some reason I feel like people that offer to me feel obligated or put out. Which I understand is hypocritical of me. So she told me that I should think of the offers for help as expressions of love. I’m trying. But in the meantime, I’m trying to just sit in the uncomfortable and accept that it may take some practice.
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