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There’s story I like that illustrates my style when it comes to asking for help.

There are three workers on a river.

The best worker asks for assistance the moment he notices the current getting faster and waves growing larger.

“There’s a waterfall up ahead. I’ll need some help.”

The average worker asks for assistance when he actually sees the waterfall up ahead and observes branches and other floating objects disappearing over the edge of the fall.

“”I see a waterfall, I need help!”

The very worst worker asks for assistance as his boat is going over the waterfall.

“Heeelp meee! Arghhh!”

I like to imagine myself as the best worker. The one who is proactive. The one who chooses an ounce of prevention over a pound of cure.

But the truth is, I’m usually the worst worker. I only ask for help after I’ve tried (unsuccessfully) a dozen or more ways of trying to do it by myself.

And then, only when I’m going over the edge and see the rocks coming up fast do I finally have the willingness to reach out and ask for help.

Asking for help is hard.

Loving the Illusion of Control

I know I love feeling that I’m in complete control of getting what I want. It starts so early.

I see toddlers all the time squirming in their parents arms crying “I want to do it.”

Autonomy and independence feels really good. It feels good to be powerful.

And I think technology has done a lot to extend our belief that we have control. I can do so many things on my own that previously required help from other people. I can deposit checks with my iPhone, I can buy just about anything and have it arrive at my front door in a few days, I can purchase a flight to Paris and make dinner reservations without ever having to talk to a real human being.

I can get tons of stuff done without ever having to walk out my front door.

It feels good at the end of the day to see all these things checked off on my to do list. I feel so productive!

But there are still limits to what I can do by myself.

Vulnerability and Humility

Inevitably, however, something comes up and I can’t do it by myself. Not that I won’t try to do it myself. Like the “Very Worst Worker” I may ignore my problem for a while. I may even try to fix it myself. But sooner or later, like the “Very Worst Worker” frantically paddling as her boat goes over the edge of the waterfall, I need to ask other people for help.

What’s the resistance about?

Two feelings come up for me that I hate having to feel:

1. Vulnerability. When I realize I can’t do it all by myself. Now I have to look at the reality of my situation and face my frailties and limitations.

I have to admit, “I can’t get what I want without getting help from other people.” I am not all powerful.

2. Humility. If I want to reach my goal, I need to ask other people for help and this means:

a. I have to admit to others that I don’t “have it all together.”

b. They could say “no” or not even respond to my request!

Both of these feel really uncomfortable to me because I so enjoy living in my little illusion bubble where everything is so tidy and predictable.

Who Am I Being When I Ask for Help?

The last thing I want to mention is when I wait until the last moment to ask for help, I tend to ask from a place of desperation and panic. Like the guy going over the edge of the waterfall, “Heellp meee …!!!” who is grabbing at anything to avoid hitting those rocks below.

On the one hand, people are more likely to help when they see you’re clearly in trouble. On the other hand, it gets old fast when you have a friend or co-worker who always waits until the last minute and then needs you to help them bail out. You start thinking, “Geez, dude maybe you should plan ahead a little.”

Growing My Capacity for Getting Help

I think learning to ask for help is a skill that I can improve with practice not unlike the way using weights can help us strengthen muscles.

This means I can build my ability by asking for help with small things rather than thinking I can suddenly mobilize my entire community to my cause overnight.

Getting help with small things is something I need to do some experimenting with because I’m uncomfortable asking even for small favors. It’s pretty daunting.

]]> http://www.bigjoyproject.com/asking-for-help-is-hard/feed/ 0 870 Lessons from Hitting the Wall http://www.bigjoyproject.com/lessons-from-hitting-the-wall/ http://www.bigjoyproject.com/lessons-from-hitting-the-wall/#respond Mon, 23 Feb 2015 18:29:47 +0000 http://www.bigjoyproject.com/?p=821 Continue reading →]]> Wile_E._Coyote's_ACME_Instant_Tunnel_at_MIT
“Wile E. Coyote’s ACME Instant Tunnel at MIT” by Kenneth Lu – Flickr: Wile E. Coyote at MIT.
Licensed under CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

Last week I had a colonoscopy.

I had been dreading it for months. Or more accurately, I had been dreading the pre-procedure preparation which involves fasting and drinking a foul-tasting laxative so that my lower intestine would be nice and clean for the camera.

While drinking my second 16-0z cup of laxative at 3am, I seriously questioned whether a colonoscopy was worth it. I was well aware of the risks a colonoscopy is supposed to address. I even know someone for whom the early detection made possible by a colonoscopy was, literally, a life saver.

When the procedure was complete and I was told everything looked fine, I felt a sense of profound relief. I assumed once the sedative wore off, I could simply pick up my life where I left off.

Not quite.

I expected that after fasting a full day and emptying out my digestive system I’d be ready to eat out the refrigerator. I was looking forward to pigging out on some comfort food like mashed potatoes or pancakes.

Oddly, however, I had very little appetite. Instead, I felt mostly bloated and nauseous…as though I had some kind of stomach bug.

I could only manage a little ramen and some cranberry juice before I went to bed that night.

The day after my procedure, I still felt bloated and nauseous. In addition, I was also feeling weak and dizzy. After running a few simple errands, I could barely drag myself into bed.

I guess being someone who is almost always in good health has left me with very little patience and ability to deal with feeling sick. And in this situation, I was feel so much worse, I panicked thinking something terrible was happening to me.

I wondered if I should call 911 but it didn’t feel like I was in danger. What was freaking me out was the fear that danger was imminent and just a matter of time even though I didn’t know what that danger might be. I didn’t understand what was happening in my body and I think what was ultimately most upsetting was there was no one I felt I could ask for help.

There was a time when I would have called my dad who was a dentist and had medical training. Even if he didn’t have the answer, he would listen to my symptoms and suggest what my next steps should be. My dad was the first person I turned to when I needed advice and reassurance. But my dad is now 83 and I was concerned that calling him would do nothing but upset him and upsetting my dad would upset me even more.

What I finally did was to reach out to people. I wrote an update on Facebook, I called my husband, and paged my doctor.

Like everyone, I hate asking for help. I hate being vulnerable and needy. I hate being in a position where I feel I have nothing valuable to offer and am at the mercy of others giving to me.

I was so afraid no one would respond. No one would be able to give me what I needed and then I’d really be in trouble.

But people did respond.

The nurse on call was reassuring. She suggested I drink a sports drink to restore my electrolytes and take probiotics to get my digestive bacteria working again. Quite a few of my friends and acquaintances on Facebook responded with good advice and wishes that I feel better soon. My husband sat with me while I cried and complained and experienced some really painful emotions.

And slowly, day by day I’ve been feeling better. My appetite has not fully returned. I’m still not feeling entirely back to the way I felt prior to the procedure. But I’m eating and I definitely feel more myself.

“Hitting the Wall” is when I feel that deep pain of isolation and the despair that there’s no one out there who can or will respond to my cry for help. This wasn’t a situation filled with trauma or drama. But trauma and drama isn’t a requirement for being in a dark place. I’d call this more a moment of extreme quiet desperation.

The good thing is I didn’t stay in that place. I reached out and asked for help and I received the reassurance that I have people in my life who care and want to help.

I feel deeply humbled and deeply touched by the experience.

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