Help Arrives

I have problems asking for and accepting help. Many women share this challenge with me. We insist on being amazingly competent. We work at demanding professions, raise perfect inspired children, and run immaculate homes while we pay all the bills on time. We rise in the morning looking like we just had nine hours of sleep instead of the two gotten because of a puking kid and a colicky baby. Walk at a quick pace as if our three inch heels – narrow at the toe – are not killing our feet. Our hair looks like we not only just walked out of a salon, but also as if we are followed around by a hairdresser to correct any out of place strands. We easily and graciously bake a few dozen cupcakes for our kids’ classes even though we were told the night before as the little one climbed sleepily into bed. We climb into bed looking sexy and inviting, ready to please our men. We have never ending energy and always wear a smile laced with perfectly applied lipstick. In our minds we want to be tired when we are tired, grumpy when we are grumpy, hungry when we are hungry, and allow our hair to hang in our faces. We want to stand at the top of the stairs screaming while throwing those damn high heels so hard they make a hole in the wall. We want desperately to ask for and accept help. Women know and understand women who can (or at least seem) to do everything by themselves while they are really exhausted. Women know women need help yet cannot ask. Women know women are just told help will come on this day at this time. Women know women will want to cry from relief. I am very blessed to have a friend who knows me well enough not to ask if I need or want help. Why ask questions with known answers? Why go through the argument I will put up while inside I am screaming, “Yes! Yes! Please help me!” This friend simply told me the day and time she and another woman would come to help me pack. The house is packed. I cannot believe the house is packed because women know women.