Asking for Help: The Hard. The Beauty. The Freedom.

Asking for Help: The Hard. The Beauty. The Freedom.

I. Need. Help. Three words that bring rise to a myriad of feelings, emotions and physical reactions. To ask for help is to be vulnerable. It’s scary. It’s risky. And it’s countercultural. But I believe in the hard of asking for help, there is beauty and freedom to be found. 

For much of my life, I’ve struggled to ask for help. I’ve wanted to have it all together. To feel smart and know that I can handle any and all situations. Or appear that I do. My internal dialogue sounds something like this: If I ask for help than I am exposing my imperfections. I am announcing to the world that I cannot handle my title as a mom. As a wife. As a friend. My title as a human being in general. But if I make the choice to put on my superwoman cape and ignore the lies that are flowing through me and I pose and soar through the day/week/life, not asking for help, I can prove that all of those lies are just that. They are lies. However, this thought process is exhausting. It’s lonely. And it is soul-killing.

Facing the Fear

Asking for help, whether it is something big or something small, takes courage. It’s facing the fear associated with what others might think, say or do when I put a voice to my need for help. 

  • taking care of my heart
  • getting organized
  • processing through a conflict
  • my marriage
  • tackling my emotions
  • handling my finances
  • managing my health 
  • parenting 
  • juggling my kids activities
  • addressing my grief
  • expressing my needs

After the birth of my first child, I found myself an emotional mess. With my newborn sound asleep in her crib, there I sat in the bathroom reading the ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ book. I was desperate to figure out what was wrong with me and also desperate to fix it. As the anxiety, tears and insomnia were taking over, so was the fear of asking for help. I was a mom now. Therefore, I should know what to do. Following my diagnosis with postpartum depression, I still felt an immense amount of shame. Why couldn’t I just suck it up and pull myself together?

Beauty

There is a beauty revealed through the offering of help. A beauty of loving others through our words and through our actions. Offering a word of encouragement. A warm meal. Or simply our presence. The beauty is in being able to love. But there is another side of beauty many miss as we struggle to ask for help. The beauty in BEING loved.

It was just over three years ago that I picked up the phone and made a choice that changed my life. The choice to seek help working through the grief over the loss of my mom. It was an invitation into a new beauty found in asking for help. It uncovered a beauty in ME that I was unaware of. A deep and profound beauty that is discovered within each of us when we choose to enter into those vulnerable places. When we choose to invite others in and risk being loved.

Removing the Veil

Through asking for help, I’m finding more life. I’m feeling more loved and seen. I’m receiving deeper healing. Above all, I’m learning to come to the feet of my Father, God, freely and unashamed, with my heart wide open. To remove the veil that isolates me. That keeps me hidden and held captive to my pain and struggles. Allows me to see more clearly the One who invites me to seek Him for truth. For wisdom. For strength. Will you join me? Will you choose courage. Choose vulnerability. Risk being loved. And try on the words, I. Need. Help.

Robin Pantusa

Robin lives in Colorado Springs, Colorado with her husband and three children. She taught kindergarten and first grade for ten years before making the choice to stay home and care for her children. She enjoys the beauty of the Rocky Mountains and the laughter of dance parties with her family. Robin finds life in honest and vulnerable conversations and in the partnership of writing with her Father.

This Post Has One Comment

  1. Avatar
    Karen

    Love this Robin! I remember a young woman confronting the generation above her about not being honest about post party’s depression. She came forth in honesty of how she was struggling and then it came out that women of my generation said” oh yes I went through that”. To which sage said what ? Why didn’t you say so thing why didn’t anyone extend and understanding hand when I was drowning in my depression while caring for a newborn. It caused my to go to my daughter and open up about things I had suffered through and if she ever needed to tell me what she was struggling with I would be open to it and not judge . I’m thankful for what I gave learned from you and your peers, you have learned the beauty of being vulnerable exposing those places that aren’t “ all under control”. Love your heart and you!

Leave a Reply