Ever see a movie when the family are driving in the car and they’re lost? The dad is driving, wife in the passenger seat, kids in the back? Stress is rising, kids are hungry and bored, wife is asking the husband to stop and ask directions…
But he won’t. He doesn’t stop. Dad just keeps driving—maybe even in circles—because he’s too proud, too “stuck” in his own ego, to stop and ask for help.
Thing is, I asked a lot of people what they would tell themselves if they could go back to those early days of widowhood. Guess what…? It wasn’t only the men who said they would “ask for help”.
Why can’t we ask for help?
Why are we—the collective we, men and women, widowed and non-widowed—so reticent to ask for help when we need it? I mean truly ask. I’m not talking about simply asking directions, either.
As humans, we are truly capable of being and doing anything. Literally. With exception of flying (although I’ve seen videos of people jumping off mountains wearing those amazingly cool flight suits, so even that may be possible), we can pretty much do anything we set our minds to do. But we “can’t” ask for help.
Henry Ford infamously said, “whether you can or whether you can’t, you’re right.” But this isn’t always a helpful way to live (no pun intended).
Just get on with it!
We can do anything. We can feel our emotions and we can think about what we want and how we want to do it. But we often overthink. We procrastinate and we prevaricate about what to do and when to do it. We wallow in thoughts based on fear and uncertainty—thinking and overthinking about the possibilities of something not going right or even going right.
When we were widowed, some of us immediately knew we would eventually be okay. We knew that the grief would be all consuming for a while, then the waves would slow and be fewer and further between.
Some of us never allowed for the grief in the first place. We invented stories in our heads, “I have to be strong for the kids”, “I have to work to pay the bills”, “I don’t have the (insert words here) to deal with the grief, and I don’t want to think about it.”
Some of us dived right into numbing and distracting behaviors—binge watching TV, drinking, dating, work, dealing with the kids, eating, running, exercise, drugs, etc. Others sat with their pain—some wallowed in it while others simply felt it.
But we aren’t built to ask for help. So we don’t. Maybe we would ask ourselves, “What kind of help do I need?” We might even have a reasonable answer.
As someone recently wrote, “I didn’t need a 10th casserole, I needed someone to sit and listen to me.” So why didn’t you ask?
It’s a much broader issue than it seems. It seems there are two key reasons why we are afraid to ask for help. First, we fear rejection—that the ask for help will not be answered. And second, we fear judgement—or worse, not being heard at all. And the judgement can be almost any kind—feeling weak for asking (self-judgement) or being seen as needy (judged by others), etc.
But nearly every widow and widower I asked said they would ask for help.
So here is the request I have of you and a promise I’m making to my fellow widows and widowers: be honest. Offer help to each other when someone asks and be vulnerable and honest enough to ask when you need it.
We all have a great deal to offer this world. Each of us has a gift to offer, and being widows doesn’t mean we have to horde those gifts, or hide them (and our true self) from the world.
Being honest and sharing is being caring and empathetic to the needs of others who—believe it or not—are exactly like us. We all know that we need help sometimes. Don’t be afraid to ask. Simply ask. Be vulnerable. Be courageous. Don’t suffer and don’t distract. Ask for help if you need it. Sometimes by asking for help we end up helping others by opening them to the possibilities of using their gifts.
If you ever need help, ask. I’m here. So are many others. I may not be able to help with everything, but I will listen. I will hear you. Know that just asking is a step forward.
Lots of love and hugs to you all.