Almost every day, I laugh with women about how bad we are at asking for help. The five word kiss of death, I call it: “I’ll just do it myself.” It gets in our way at work, in our businesses, in our relationships.
And no surprise, it’s getting in my way in my move.
But I’ve become aware of something. People around me are moving, ever so slightly, toward me—meeting me where I am, and helping with the overwhelm.
I haven’t gotten any better at asking for help, but it’s almost like people can sense it, and they’re doing what people do: they’re being good humans.
Take my son’s school, Mater Dei, for example. The teachers gathered around my son. Helped him through the transition. Talked to him, got him excited. They’ve been so easy and pleasant to work with on our end—holding his spot while we are away, despite the long list of boys on their waiting list.
Our neighbors who have raised their hands, so quickly, to take in our pets. We’ve got this, they’re telling us, as my kids worry about how their most valuable little loved ones will fare.
Or the strangers I hardly know. The people who work for the companies I have had to hire—movers and storage firms, lawn services and realtors. Surely they see the panic on my face as I try to fit in a conversation, make a plan, push decisions off to the very last minute. We’ve done this before, they’re telling me. We’ll help you.
Thank goodness for these people, these friends, these relationships that surround us. They are making it easier to breathe, easier to move through the process. Easier to get through the overwhelm.
Because as much as it may be my second nature to say, “I’ll just do it myself,” I’m recognizing that in this situation, I need help. And I’m finding that people are offering to give it.
For that, I’m grateful.