When I was young, I was little Miss Independent, always doing this by myself. Of course, I was getting help from my parents and teachers and friends, but it often didn’t occur me to ask for help.
Fast forward to me as adult, 30 years old — I had an office administrative job. A part-time job. I worked hard everyday. One day my office manager noticed I was wincing while filing papers. I admitted I was in a lot of pain. She filed the paperwork on my agreement: I had pretty bad repetitive stress injury.
I stepped away from work. I got lots of good chiropractic care and support.
Ironically, I started dating again too, during this time. I had more time to think about my love life.
It’s hard for me to admit it still, but I needed help for even the simplest things. I couldn’t hold a book or even a piece of paper for a time.
But learning to ask for help has helped me see that I am not alone. That I am part of this human community.
I’ve recovered from that time — 16 years ago — but I still ask for help. That will never go away.
Like everyone, I’m a work in progress. I’m learning to trust life, trust others, and relax into receiving help.