I hate to ask for help. I admit it. It is like feeling powerless, relinquishing control, giving up. I don’t know if it is because I was the first born, or my insistence on doing it on my own as pride, or what. Whatever it is, it is the hardest thing to do.
Maybe it is just because of the word – help. It sounds so needy.
But I am finding more and more that help (assistance, if you will) is needed for me to get my to do list completed. Without anyone getting hurt.
As a mom of two, I often find that two hands aren’t enough. Ninety percent of the time. My poor husband works long days and often during the weekend and can’t be home. I have a sitter for the children, and one is in preschool part time. But at the end of the day, caring for two kids is a lot. Add into that a part time business, and our latest project (selling a home and moving), and some days, you just would rather not get out of bed.
But (as my lovely husband tells me time and time again), I need to learn to ask for help more. Things are easier if I just ask for help. More things can get done, more time can be spent in more rewarding ways ( actually playing with my kids instead of constantly trying to clean up after them. Or just relax and take a moment for myself.
I found out how powerful help can be during our move. In the process of selling our home, the buyers decided they wanted to close more than a week early. This cut our moving time by a weekend, which is like gold when my husband has work commitments during the week, and it is hard to clean up with at least one child. The Sunday before we were to close, I was talking to my friend about how stressed I was, that we needed an extra weekend to move (especially since my husband threw out his back moving the day before). Even though we had professional movers, there was still my whole kitchen to move. Hearing the stress in my voice, my friend offered to help move. A half hour after we spoke, she and her husband were at the house ready to move. They helped pack the last of our things and took two car loads of stuff. We were able to do in three hours what would have taken me eight. They didn’t have to, but they cheerfully helped, knowing how much it meant to me and my family.
Help is a powerful thing. Given freely, it creates a better world. Accepted freely, it creates a better person. That night, I was able to spend time with my husband and kids, comforted by the thought that I would have to make just one more trip the next day to check out the house and gather a few more things before it was tented for termites. And for the first time in several months, I could relax.