Fear of Asking

Do you know what scares me?

Like really paralyses me to the point where I can't do anything?

Asking for help.

I know it won't make sense to everyone, but hear me out.

Maybe it was the way that I was raised; maybe it's because I'm an eldest daughter; maybe it's just my personality. Maybe it's some combination of all of those things (plus others that I haven't discovered yet).

I've always prided myself on my ability to handle things on my own without much help. Maybe it's the home schooler in me. I was used to being self-sufficient when it came to my learning, and it served me well in college. It was honestly rare for me to need to ask for help with any of my classes or extra curricular activities, and I was proud of the fact.

On reflection, the few times that I did need help with something, I was blessed to be surrounded by the type of friends who would offer help without any prompting. But it was minor things that I appreciated but probably wouldn't have asked for because I would have just figured it out.

When I started my career, however, things changed. When I first moved two hours away from my parents, I had to ask for help with rent when I discovered that I wouldn't get paid until the end of the month (my grad assistantship paid me twice a month, and it didn't take too long to get me into the pay system in the first place). My parents surprised me with a visit, saw that I had been living on eggs, grits, and oatmeal to save money, and quickly took me to the store to fill my cupboards and fridge.

When I was about to move from Mississippi to Maryland, I had to cave in and ask my parents and siblings to come finish cleaning my house for me and packing my things so that I could stay on schedule. I hated having to ask, even though I knew they would help.

I thought that I had gotten past that, but getting to Maryland was only the first step. This time I had to call my Dad to help with first month's rent at my new apartment.

By this point, I was starting to get annoyed with myself. It was one thing to ask for help, it was quite another to have to ask for large sums of money, even if my parents were willing and able to help. I told myself that I needed to do better, even though I was quite literally working to pay them back.

That summer I worked as a tutor, still skimping on meals but actually having some wiggle room once I'd paid my Dad back. By the time I'd moved to my new apartment (with movers paid for by my Dad, since he wasn't physically able to help), I was actually able to cover the rent for myself. I was pleased - finally, I was standing on my own two feet, I had plenty of money for groceries, and things were looking up. I even had a roommate for part of the time, which helped cut my costs dramatically and even allowed me to start building up some savings.

Last year I moved to a school where I was being paid the most I'd ever made, and I was extremely proud of myself. Finally, I was going to be able to easily cover my bills and get paid over the summer so that I wouldn't have to work if I didn't want to.

And then, at the end of August, I stayed overnight in the ER to get a blood transfusion for my Anemia that hadn't been diagnosed.

Much of the later part of the year is a blur for me, filled with appointments and iron transfusions and pills and anxiety. Several times throughout the course of the treatments, procedures, and plans for surgery, I found myself pinching every single penny. Throughout it all, my family and my boyfriend made sure that I was alright, loaning or outright gifting me money to cover bills and groceries as I struggled with medical bills and an unfortunately timed new car note.

Yet even now, months after my surgery and recovery, when I know that there are people around me willing to help as much as they can, I still hate asking for help.

Part of me knows that it's highly illogical, but the other part of me still feels some shame in not being able to fully take care of myself. I know it's mostly pride talking. I even had a friend tell me once, "There's no shame in asking for help." But it still scares me to do so.

I honestly would feel less shame about it if it weren't related to money. Things are tight for everyone, and I don't want to feel like I'm a burden. Thank goodness for the people in my life who will not only remind me that I'm not, but will continue to support me in ways other than money.

I know that one day that things will be better, and that I will be the one who is able to help someone else out financially. And I know that I'll have the understanding of why people don't want to ask for financial help, and will be able to share my experiences with them.

Until then, I'll work on being more humble - and getting over the shame and fear of needing to ask for help.