Asking for help can be hard

As wives and mothers, I think we have been conditioned in a way to have an expectation that we can “handle it”.  We multitask with the best of ’em.  I’m pretty sure our uterus’ also serve as an internal homing device – because chances are, if someone is looking for something, we can tell them where it is.

But who helps us?

I have historically abhorred asking for help.  I have had trouble asking for what I NEED – let alone things that I want.  It never mattered if it was financial, physical, material – just the fact that I needed something was enough to trigger my inner nag – that “you’re not good enough” bitch that just nags and pulls and pokes and bullies. (I wrote more about her in this blog post)

The  fact is, we have to speak up for ourselves.

As lovely as it may sound to have someone who anticipates our needs, and magically provides all that we need before we even realize we need it – most of us do not live in that reality.  Perhaps we’ve chosen this path as a way to learn how to speak up for our needs.  (That’s a whole other philosophical discussion.)  It can be foreign, for sure.  But just like the 4 years of Spanish I took in high school (gracias Senora Whitman) – if you don’t use it, you lose it.

Just like so many other things – it’s not easy, but it is simple.

When you care for yourself and others, work on active communication, and rely on the connection with people who love you, you can feel safe enough and strong enough to speak up for your needs.

Toddlers don’t have trouble asking for what they need, do they?

Heck, my six  year old son can grind my nerve real quick asking for cereal, or a drink, or where his (insert toy/shoe/tablet, etc here) is.  We lose that skill though, I’ve noticed.  I’m sure part of it is birth order, and family dynamics, but think about your own offspring – at what point did they stop asking for what they need?

When did you stop asking for what you need?

I know that it’s not easy – and it’s pretty dang complicated.  I know that it’s uncomfortable, and uneasy, and downright messy.  But I can promise you this – on the other side, it’s beautiful.  It’s amazing and empowering and gorgeous, and it feels like home.  I want to help you feel that.


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