And while we're at it, they just biopsied me for what they believe to be skin cancer today. Because when it rains, it pours, right?
|Click HERE for YouCaring.|
Accepting that I am lovable has always been a deep struggle for me. I've been working on it in therapy for years. I am still not sure I believe it.
Those holding the umbrella atop me and my family are making it harder and harder to deny, though.
Just when I thought all was lost, friends created a crowdfunding site in effort to help with our dire situation. I didn't expect it, I didn't see it coming, and for the sake of my son, I didn't have the ability to turn it down out of pride. I simply must accept that I have the support of those who care about me.
I cannot write that last sentence without clenching my teeth. It is not easy.
As a child, I grew up learning via constant and continuous intimation that asking for or accepting help is a sign of weakness. Giving help, however, is a requirement.
Thus, when my loved ones have needed this kind of assistance, I was honored and pleased to give it, to solicit it on their behalves, to organize it from everywhere I could find it. When I did, I would beg of them to share my call for help for them, but they rarely did. I understood how difficult it was for them to do so, as I would've been the same way, I thought. However, I never let them get away with trying to shy away from their needs. I tagged them daily. I spammed their posts with my pleas. I was relentless.
Now, I'm in their position. I'm the one in need of help and it is killing me to ask or accept it. My friends are now the ones tagging me, spamming me, never giving up for me. And I'm remembering. I'm remembering how badly I wanted my friends in need to help me help them. They were the ones with all the access to all the people who loved them most. There was only so much I could do for them if they were, for whatever reason, unable to help me help them. So, after hiding out, avoiding, hunkering down in my shame and humiliation, I've reflected and recalled enough to come to the very uncomfortable position of helping them help me. I cannot, will not allow foolish pride to get in the way of asking for and accepting help that is, ultimately, for my son. The safety and security of his family is of the utmost importance. He requires stability and I, as his mama, have to give that to him regardless of my own upbringing, baggage, or ego.
I also will not allow all the work those who have cared so truly and deeply about us be for naught. I can't do that to them. They deserve more and the least I can do is help them help me as my way of thanking them.
For all those reasons, I'm sharing THIS with you. I'm sharing it and asking for your help in whatever way you see fit.
Now, I'm running away for a bit to have a good cry, because this is a LOT.
Oh, wait, before I go...
You cannot know how grateful I am. You can never know, but I'll never stop trying to show you.