This is not Suzanna – this is her super fantastic assistant. She would call me that even if I wasn’t the one writing this, so it’s not cheating. Promise.
I started that way because I want to tell you about something personal and it would be strange and awkward to not acknowledge my own story. I’m daydreaming how this would look if someone approached Suzanna in the grocery store about it, and I’m giggling, but I need to get to the point.
I’ve had well-meaning friends try to tell me this by joking it would be on my tombstone – “SHE DID IT HER WAY!”
It took unemployment, followed by a bone tumor to slow me down and teach me – to ask for help. Which frankly, is sad and very tragic. Feel sorry for me… I was stubbornly insisting I could do everything to the point where it was becoming a disease.
I didn’t expect to be unemployed. I figured since I’d done everything right, the next job would just fall in my lap like they always did. I’m a smart a girl. I’m fun to hang out with. Why couldn’t I even get an interview? I spiraled into blame.
It’s not pretty.
You might want to cover your eyes and just peek through as you read. This stuff is not something you want to look at directly. It’s just plain pathetic.
I blamed my age. I blamed this town. I blamed internet systems, HR department dragons, and all of society at large. As if that would change anything. Ironically, if I’d used gratitude instead of blame this would be a completely different story.
Then, in my sullen state, I was diagnosed with a bone tumor. Walking and chores had been hurting me, but I was pushing through because if I didn’t do them, who would? My sweet and lovely, perfectly capable family, that’s who.
My then fifteen-year-old daughter, thirteen-year-old son, and wonderful husband had been right there the whole time. Wanting, nay – aching, to help. When they heard the diagnosis they plopped me in my favorite chair and lovingly scolded me. I then spent a painful few months – not lifting a finger.
Asking for help can feel belittling. I felt like I was worthless. A lump.
I forgot that I was a lovely Mommy lump. That it didn’t matter that I couldn’t cook or clean up or anything. I was adored by my family because of who I am, not what I could do for them.
Listen to me – this is true about you, too. You are loved, not because of what you do for people but because of who you are. Your value isn’t work related. It’s just you.
Slowly it got easier. It had to happen. When I finally had surgery to remove the tumor I needed help with literally everything.
I needed help financially – and it was provided when I finally asked.
I needed help at home – and every time I asked, it was provided.
I needed – and I was helped – every single time.
Now, I’m unstoppable and I border on cheeky. Yesterday when a friend texted she was coming over, I asked for her to bring chocolate. She did.
Think about this. Where do you need help in your life? Have you really asked for help? Have you been afraid, like I was, that people would say no?
Give yourself permission to just ask. Ask for silly things, “Hey let’s go to Jeremiah’s I want some tummy yummy.” Ask for big things, “I need real help organizing all my family photos since Mom died.”
Some of the things I needed, I had to pay for, which is very reasonable. I needed physical therapy. That’s not free but I had to go into that room like a baby. Vulnerable and pliable. It’s not easy but I can walk without pain because I did it.
It’s not easy to let someone see your mess. I totally get it.
However, it’s totally worth getting help.
It took getting laid up for me to give myself permission to look at life another way. Be smarter – learn from my mistakes.
If this has touched your heart in any way – please share it with a friend on FB. If you see yourself – pick up the phone, schedule an appointment. Get help.
Depression comes in many shapes and forms.
In all of its forms, it’s a beast that wants to take over your life. This is not a fairytale cartoon. You can’t just kiss this booboo.
The beast is not waiting for a rose petal to fall so that life will return in full glory. Sadly, depressed people often make their spaces into dark cocoons. Closing the blinds. Letting dust gather. Piles of put off decisions gather. This might make the sufferer feel better but… Continue reading
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