asking-for-help

I was so happy when I found out the wounds you__ inflicted weren__ serious, that you had stopped._ __es, I stopped. Barry, all of you, see what I did as this suicide attempt. But I didn__ want to die. I only wanted my mom to hear me. To come find me. To see that I was sad. To help me, I guess. I just didn__ have it in me to tell her what I needed. And fine, I get now that she couldn__ read my mind._ He wiped his eyes again. __ut I didn__ get it then. I__ so mad at myself. What was wrong with me that I couldn__ just tell her? That I didn__ have the capacity to ask her for anything.

State what you want, and go for it, don't refuse yourself a request you did not make.

When we ask for anything, we're almost always asking for help, in some form; help with money, permission, acceptance, advancement, help with our hearts...Brene Brown has found through her research that women tend to feel shame around the idea of being 'never enough'... at home, at work, in bed, never pretty enough, never smart enough, never thin enough, never good enough...Men tend to feel shame around the fear of being perceived as weak, or more academically, 'fear of being called a pussy'. Both sexes get trapped in the same box for different reasons. If I ask for help...I am not enough.If I ask for help... I'm weak.It's no wonder so many of us don't bother to ask, it's too painful.

Being first to ask for help in a friendship takes courage and humility.

I started crying when the group [therapy] was over because the last thing we did upset me - we all held a piece of the same cloth, leaned back and supported each other's weight. I couldn't do it. I bent my legs and elbows and stood very firm, yet . . .I needed to feel supported, as i do in life, but i can't let myself be, and i pretend not to need that support.

One common thing about great achievers is that, they keep asking useful questions every day. They ask questions like; __hat do I want and what do I need to do to get it?

That obstinate sense of independence was the biggest challenge I face in building my little house (that, and not always knowing what I was doing). I was stubborn in the way I hated to ask for help. Some people are good at it, asking friends or their husbands to collect ginger ale and crackers at the grocery because they feel nauseous, or standing on the side of the road with a tire iron in one hand, hoping someone will stop to change their flat tire. I'm not like that; I'd rather have a rough stick dragged across my gums than walk to the neighbor's house to borrow sugar or ask for help jump-starting my car.

Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach thy hand For I am drowning in a stormier sea Than Simon on thy lake of Galilee:The wine of life is spilt upon the sand,My heart is as some famine-murdered land Whence all good things have perished utterly, And well I know my soul in Hell must lieIf this night before God's throne should stand.

Never let your ego get in the way of asking for help when in desperate need. We have all been helped at a point in our lives.

I've never been good with asking for help; it seems risky, but at some point when things are really dicey, your stubbornness gives way to a certain form of humility that, after you get over yourself, feels liberating. I started to believe that the universe was conspiring to help me finish my house, sending people along at the right moment.