The Art of Asking

I am reading a book called “The Art of Asking” by Amanda Palmer. I have no idea who this woman is and hadn’t heard about her before I started reading this book – but it is intriguing to me. Because asking for help is something I typically don’t do.

There are many reasons really. I am sure I could spend thousands of dollars in therapy (and have!) figuring out all of the reasons why. I was raised to be “fine” – to keep emotions to myself. Having feelings at all was frowned upon – being good was the goal. When I grew up, this persisted as I stayed in a marriage for fifteen years with a man who verbally and emotionally abused me…not every day but often enough to keep me in line. Hearing for years that you are not worth anything makes you start to believe it. You don’t even know how to ask for help. It is not a thing on your radar…surviving every day is all you can do. How can someone help with that?

I may be one of the few people in the world who is grateful for her husband’s multiple affairs – not because they didn’t devastate me and shatter my heart into a million pieces – but because with the leaving came the freedom and the healing and the recognization of the lies and manipulation I had lived under for fifteen years. I was able to finally be myself and be okay with that. BUT that didn’t mean that I learned to ask for help. I was strong. I could do it all by myself.

I had been for years after all.

So I was reading this book today and a guy was telling a story about how he had worked up the courage to ask his aunt to talk to his dying mother. They had been feuding for years. It was ugly. But this guy decided to call his aunt and lay out his heart. He laid it all out there, he asked her to come see his mother.

And she said no.

“It was so hard for me to ask,” he said, “I never ask for anything. And I’d finally asked. That answer…it crushed me.”

I had to put the book down and cry.

Because I get that. I so get that.

Having lived the way I had for so many years – afraid to be myself, afraid to let people see me – it took me a long time to ask for help. I did it so rarely, I can actually remember each and every time in the last ten years.

The first time I tangibly asked for help…I was ignored. I asked explicitly…the person heard me…and then ignored my request.

It took me 2 more years to ask for help again. This time it was a rather easy task related request. I asked with a level of vulnerability this time. I explained that it was hard for me to ask and why. The person said they would help. They didn’t show up.

I stopped asking. If I needed help with something, I either figured out a way to do it myself or left it undone. I learned to live with broken light fixtures, sink faucets and without a small group. Because I had learned that it was easier to do that then to get rejected.

But what happens when you live life that way? For me, that ended up in walled off emotions and lonely nights. I have spent nights in the hospital waiting rooms alone, gone to the mental hospital to visit my child alone, dealt with the aftermath of car accidents alone, spent sleepless nights worrying alone…probably more than the average person. All because asking for help didn’t go well for me.

So recently, I decided to stop doing that. I decided that risking and vulnerability needed to replace the fear of rejection. And I am not going to lie. It has not been easy or without gut wrenching pain. I have risked talking about things I don’t talk about. I have asked explicitly for what I need in friendships, in work and in life in general. And I have been hurt. And I have been rejected. And I have been devastated.

But in the midst of that, there have been moments of pure joy and freedom. There have been people who have stepped up and cared when you haven’t thought they would. There have been offers of help when I haven’t been able to even formulate the question. There have been crisis times when I have actually had someone to call.

While not everything has gone the way I had hoped it would, and I have some regrets about things I have shared, I have learned that even with the pain – it can still be worth it. It is worth it to open yourself up to others – even if they let you down sometimes. It is worth it to be your authentic self – scars and all. It is worth it to ask for help – even if the answer is no. Because although it hurts, you have to risk in order to get a reward. And the rewards do come…the trick is to hold onto them and not let the fear overtake you.