Asking for help

In the past year or so a couple events arose in my life that gave me cause to ask for help.   1) My job was downsized and 2) my mom got breast cancer.  To be blunt, those two life events sucked.  But, my life hasn't sucked.  There are many, many reasons my life not only hasn't sucked, but I would say has been overall, good.  But, the one reason I want to talk about is how I learned to ask for help, what I am still learning about asking for help, and what I hope might be helpful to others from my experience.

For a long time I didn't know I ever needed help for anything.  I come from a stubborn, proud Scotch heritage on my mom's side.  My grandmother was often one to say, "Keep your pride."  Asking for help, where I come from, is fine for other people, but not for us.  One time I told my mom (when my kids were very small and my husband was travelling and I was working, etc.) that I thought I was having a nervous breakdown.  "We don't have those," she replied.  Nervous breakdowns, apparently, are not allowed in our genetic makeup.  No one in my family was mean or cruel, but the idea was keep on keeping on.  There's good to that, of course, but like all things, in moderation.

So, at some point, I realized that there were moments in life that I might need help - I might need someone to drive me to the airport, I might like someone to keep me company after a crime was committed in my apartment building, I might want someone to just listen. 

Asking for help takes practice.  It takes practice to identify when you might need it.  It might take practice to overcome what you think of as your pride.  It might be that the people you ask for help are not available physically or emotionally.  That can be discouraging.  Like everything, I've learned to keep practicing and cast a wide net. 
When the tough stuff has come up for me recently, I've cast a wide net by using email. I emailed my personal, trusted extended group of friends.  I pretty much said, 'keep me and my family in your thoughts.'   The support, kindness, commiseration, and love I felt...well, I can't thank those people enough.  Help came in many, many forms - from encouraging emails, to job leads, to articles about breast cancer. 

In having some trouble asking for help, I know I am not alone.  But,  I think I'm doing a little better.  Like most of what has worked for my mental health is - try giving it a try.  Then, keep trying - if you ask the wrong people, try other people.  If you don't get the help you want or need this time, tweak it the next time.  Be specific.  Acknowledge your losses, but be grateful for what you have.

On a slight tangent, I'd like to acknowledge my friend and fellow poet, Kelli Allen who is doing some awesome work with poetry and vets.  If you love poetry and/or music lyrics, you may be especially interested and especially hopeful that this Missouri Warrior Writers Project might be the right help for some people at the right time.  Here's a link to her blog:  http://mowarriorwriters.wordpress.com/blog/

Take care! 

radical acceptance

Here's an article that I found interesting...information about the different types of therapeutic approaches  make us all better consumers of counseling/psychotherapy.  I think this approach has a lot of merit.
 
This is from the NY Times today:  http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/23/health/23lives.html . 

I don't have a lot of time to write this week, but I hope you find this thought-provoking.

save the ta tas!

In February this year my mom was diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer.  It's a huge relief for me to write that for two reasons: 1) though prose probably isn't my strongest suit, I am a writer; 2) one of the pillars of my own mental health is telling the truth. 

My mom, rightly, asked me not to blog about her diagnosis, treatment, etc, until she felt she had a good handle on the situation herself.  She gave me permission to write about this over the weekend, and I am grateful to her to allow me to share a little of her story and also my story as her daughter.

First the news:  my mom's prognosis is very good - Stage 1 is early and one of her docs said, "your mammogram saved your life."  So, ladies, don't avoid it  - go get your mammogram!  The type of cancer my mom had was an aggressive type, though, so her treatment team is being aggressive - she has had radiation and chemotherapy (she's still undergoing chemo) and a lumpectomy.  In the end, all signs point to long term health for my mom. 

So, I could blog a lot about what I've learned this Spring, the medical system pros and cons, the emotional impact this has had on me, but I think I'll revisit that another time  - what I'd like to write about is my family's participation in Race for the Cure in St. Louis this past Saturday and what that looked like and meant to me. 

My husband and kids and I drove downtown on Saturday morning at 7:30 to join the almost 70,000 people to 'race' for the cure (as you can imagine, with that many people within the 3 mile route in downtown St. Louis, there's little 'racing.') You know, in life it's easy to become cynical about and disappointed in human nature.  I often think of the movie, The "Princess Bride", when Wesley says to Buttercup, "Life is not fair, Highness, and anyone who tells you differently is selling you something."   It's for sure that cancer is not fair.  But, to see nearly 70,000 women, men, children, black people, while people, survivors, every type of person, really, getting together and essentially celebrating women they love  (some they have loved and lost), peacably, amicably, and with great good humor - oh my gosh - it was amazing!  It touched me and made me hopeful not just about curing cancer, but about fighting the cancer of cynicism, prejudice, ignorance, and hate.

I'd blogged previously about some of the ways it concerns me that women's bodies are not as valued as they should be.  This was the absolute counter to that.  There couldn't be a more wholesome, sweet celebration of boobs!   Again, I feel hopeful.

I think it is the Dalai Lama who suggests that hope is not very useful because it indicates that we are attached to an outcome.  I try to learn all I can from every smart and holy person who is available to me, so I try to really feel what he says.   But, for better or worse, I still attach to some outcomes; I am attached to my hope right now!  Hoping for good health for my mom, and all people.  Hoping for our doctors and researchers to find good treatments and cures for cancers.  Hoping for more opportunities to celebrate in my community.  Less fear, more love!  I hope for that.