relationships

afraid of help? seek a supporter, maybe a champion

/ Elizabeth / Leave a comment

sometimes I am afraid of help, of asking for help, of being seeing to need help. my brain will tell me the following:  needing help is weakness. it’s showing lack. it’s deficiency. it’s vulnerability. it’s showing a soft underbelly. now someone will know that I don’t know it all, have it all. sometimes it’s not all self-contained and together in here. 

and that’s fine to feel afraid. fear is part of life. unfortunately. but we all need to find the right kind of help. not a “helper,” who is using help as a form of control or to externalize their own anxieties about you or about failure or about whatever is going on in their brainscape. and not an I-told-you-so-er. definitely not one of those. but a supporter. the person who comes in and stands beside you, solid, so you can lean as much as you need for as long as you need, and when you’re okay – you’re rested, recovered, reset – the supporter moves out of that position into their usual place in your life. they are back to spouse, friend, cousin, neighbor, co-worker. and you don’t feel like you did something wrong to ask for help. the soft underbelly might be one of their favorite parts of you, in fact. the supporter is there to support. and that’s that. 

sometimes the supporter turns out to be a champion. they are just as excited as you are that you are trying something new – taking a risk, being vulnerable and brave. and with each attempt they are solid. your success or failure doesn’t flag their enthusiasm for your enthusiasm. they want to hear your stories of your attempts. they want to revel in the wins and sympathize with the mistakes. and it’s even more special to me if that supporter-turned-champion is an expert at the thing I am just trying out. there is a magic there – and it took me a long while to really allow and then feel that magic. 

when an expert admires your first clumsy attempts at the thing they love and know so well. it’s like time folds backwards on itself and they are back at their starting line again, seeing their own beginning steps through your beginner’s eyes. they are seeing it all anew and loving it all again for the first time. your success becomes their success. they are suggesting and supporting out of love. because you are falling in love with their love, and it’s so exciting and beautiful. the help and support and encouragement is real and deep and sincere because they know. they were there a long time ago, taking their first steps just like you are, and they loved it then and they love it now and they want you to be great at it too and love it as much as they do. and nobody says those words aloud. but I feel it when a supporter becomes a champion, my champion. even for a moment. 

i’ve felt it for my students they’ve written something beautiful, questioned deeply, lost themselves in a book. I feel awake through their awakeness. and I’ve felt the same when a champion has seen my beginner’s efforts and it lights them up. they are alive in the process and the trying and the growing. the champion is seeing me sing my seeds awake, and they are stepping in to create the harmonies. it’s an inspiration loop. a love loop. for the thing we are working so hard to do, for being in the moment with it, fully immersed. in the truest sense of the word, it is wonderful. 

so yes, it is hard to ask for help from people who will help begrudgingly or anxiously or scoldingly. and it’s a moment of miracle when a champion steps forward to support. and when it happens to you, be soft. allow it. let it in. it can be beautiful for both of you.  

you ever feel afraid of trying?

/ Elizabeth / Leave a comment

me too. I want to do it right the first time, or pretty close to right, pretty close to the first time. and it’s partially because I want to be good at things and have things turn out the way I want them to turn out. and partially it’s because I don’t want other people to see me trying. this is for several reasons. 

some people feel so much when they see you trying – the feelings exude off them. some people feel embarrassed on your behalf. they look away and think, “wow, I’m so glad that’s not me out there trying. I’d look like a fool for trying so hard.” those people have probably been shamed or made fun of at some point for trying, and so the pain of trying is too much, even when someone else is doing the trying. and even when they’re looking away, I feel like I can tell they’re trying not to look. 

some people feel angry at your trying. they think that in addition to being an embarrassment, you’re taking up perfectly good space that other people could be using to do the same thing, only better. those people are very hard on themselves, I’d say, and are locked in their own cages of judgment and regrets for trying and not trying. there’s maybe resentment there, as in, why do you get to try and I don’t? I can hear that voice sometimes, coming from the inside.

some people give lots of feedback – lots of “helpful” feedback. I especially don’t like those people. I understand the embarrassed and angry people, because in the past I’ve had those reactions when I’ve seen others trying, and I’ve been around those kinds of people the most growing up. however, the helpful feedback people are also difficult to be around. because there you are, just writing your poem or drawing your picture, dancing your dance or running your race or whatever it might be – happily in the moment, just doing, just trying. and someone sidles up and says, “you know, if you just blah blah blah blah blah.” to help. but you didn’t ask. because part of trying – at least for me and at least in the early stages – is the joy of something new and making mistakes and being okay with that. it’s part of the process to do it wrong and understand how it’s wrong and then adjust and improve. if we forced a flower open too soon or made a baby walk perfectly, no stumbles or falls along the way, then how would they know all the intermediate parts to blooming, to walking? 

and that’s when I feel afraid of trying. not because of the actual trying, or because of the process of failure and improvement. sometimes failure is so god-awful it’s sweet or silly, sometimes it’s so close to success it stings. but that’s okay. the fear comes from having to hide or protect my trying from others and their judgments and their offerings of help when I don’t want it. because I want to just try. 

so I say this to myself and maybe to you too:  step back and let someone try. and let your heart be open to witnessing the sweetness and silliness and sometimes sting of trying and failing. you won’t break if you see someone try and fail. and the person trying won’t either. 

there’s somewhere in here for the supporter, or the guide – not the “helper” – but another kind of person who assists the trying. but maybe that discussion is for another day. maybe tomorrow I’ll try to tell you about it.