Oh no.
I crashed.
After a hard couple of years and an infinitely harder year, my body and brain just gave up.
Family flew thousands of miles and sat with me for weeks and did the small and large things I could no longer do and listened to me whine and had great conversations as I recuperated and carted me to all sorts of medical testing and appointments. Friends stepped up and did incredibly kind things.
Acquaintances helped out. Neighbors that I am on the “hello and chat” level with were concerned and helped out. My boss helped out. My boss’s boss helped out. My employer and FMLA helped out. People worried and sent kind messages.
The safety net I didn’t realize was there caught me. Or, I knew there was a safety net, but I didn’t know so many people would have a hand in holding it or that it was this wide and cushiony.
And for all of it, I am grateful grateful grateful.
More than not, I didn’t actually use the help that was offered. This was partially because I didn’t know how to ask or what I needed, and partially because it’s embarrassing for me to need help (more on that later). I relied heavily on a few key people. But now that the crisis is deescalated, I’m going to have to seek help in more places. Which leads to the following question:
How the hell do you ask for help?
It wouldn’t be my blog if I didn’t immediately turn around and try to understand how asking for and receiving help are so hard. What are the mechanisms? What are the impediments? How can you offer help to people you see struggling in ways they can receive it?
This announces a new series of posts about societal conundrum of giving/receiving of help! Ta da! (You didn’t think I would actually answer the question in a tiny post, did you?)
The Friend Manual: How to make friends when you're bad at it 