My Turn: A helper learns (again) to ask for aid

The other day I was reading a magazine article about the most difficult things for people to say to each other. One was: “I need help.”

This has always been a taboo phrase for me. For years, I would not ask for help unless it was at my dying breath! I wondered what made me like this as compared to some of my friends. One friend said she asks her children for anything and everything she needs, and to take her wherever she needs to go for appointments. I have never done that. I’ve always hired someone to drive me and wait for me if I could not drive someplace.

I tried to analyze my reluctance to ask for help and realized that I was always the first one to give it to others. I even chose a profession that enhanced that aspect of my personality — nurse, the ultimate helper. Yet I can’t ask for help. Why? Is it a reluctance to show weakness?

Growing up, I was taught to do things for myself and never ask anyone, especially outside the family unit, for aid. We always fixed, solved and repaired everything within our circle of four. As I look more closely into this, I see it was a reluctance to owe anyone a debt of gratitude.

As I aged into an adult, this was ingrained in me to the point where I was always the helper and never the receiver of favors.

Until my daughter was born, that is — and then I had no choice but to ask for help to get through the daily crises that occur when you have a child who is disabled.

The everyday chores and caring for the two other children, along with going to nursing school, put me in a “help me” position with so many people. I found that once I started asking people, it got so much easier, and people were more than willing to help. It took a lot for me to get used to the feelings of obligation that I associated with reaching out, but pride had to be put aside and cultural teachings buried in order to get through these difficult times.

Unfortunately, cultural upbringing and family teachings seep into your bones and permeate your brain and stay there, dormant until your elder years. Even to this day, I have to watch myself carefully not to extend my kindness to the point where it interferes with my own daily life.

Caring, giving and helping are wonderful tools to have in the toolbox of life if they are used to better others and never diminish your own lifestyle. I am still learning this difficult lesson.

My husband passed away two years ago, and now I am faced with living alone. This puts a whole new light on my difficulty asking for help. In addition, I am experiencing the physical limitations of a healing hip, so I cannot change the fire alarm batteries, reach for the curtain rod or do the ordinary reaching I could do a few months ago.

I have rewired my brain to realize this is a survival issue of sorts, and I need to ask for help. I always laughed about the emergency alert button worn around the neck and the “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” commercials on television. During my hip recuperation that button brought me a sense of safety. I never thought I would wear one, and now I keep it by the side of my bed — just in case.

Life changes as your needs and ability to maneuver shift over the decades. Asking for help now, at 81, is not the same as asking for help at 21. But now it depends on my ability to live each day as fully as I can, knowing I will ask for help should I need it.

Carol Giuliani

St. James