Learning to Ask for Help

"Right now, you need to talk to people; find every single person who will listen to you, and talk."

This week, we had to invite people deep into the trenches with us. It was one of the hardest things we’ve ever done, as it was one of the hardest things our family has gone through (and if you know our story, that’s saying a lot).

I had a conversation with my godsister about how much my soul rebelled against asking for help, how I am always riddled with guilt at the thought of inconveniencing others, paired with a naturally reserved personality.

In response, she said to me, “Our parents would always tell us not to tell anyone outside the family what was going on. We were never allowed to reach out for help.”

“Yeah my parents were the same.”

“Don’t be like our parents.”

Truth be told, it’s highly unlikely we would have told anyone about our current situation, had it not been necessary for the preservation of our family. After being in crisis and survival mode for the past three years, it started to feel like we were constantly in need of our people without being able to give back in the same way.

There’s an underlying cultural factor—to give and not take, so as not to be a burden to others. There’s a religious factor—to give and not take, since Jesus gave everything unconditionally, and we must be like Jesus.

I’ve always had trouble with the verse, “Ask and you will receive”¹. Out-of-context-Bible-quoting aside, I never knew how to ask for anything, let alone believe I’d be given what I asked for. Add to that an unhealthy emphasis on self-reliance, and you have a recipe for isolation and an attitude of self-sufficiency that spills over into my relationship with the God who gives.

But in the past week, circumstances forced our hands to reach for the people who love us.