Thursday, February 14, 2013

Asking for help.

  When did it become such an issue to ask for help?  When I was younger, I tried to do everything on my own.  I was foolish to think that I knew everything and that nothing could stand in my way.  As I have become older (and hopefully wiser,) I realize that I am not the sun, moon and the stars.  I do not know the answer to everything and now, I realize that asking for help is sometimes the best idea.  But, it seems as if this idea does not sit well with others and I am religated to feeling like I am being a bother.  I don't think that asking for help is a sign of weakness.  I think that it is the opposite.  It takes a great deal of strength to admit that you are not good enough at something and ask for help.  Not everything is a competition and I believe that working as a team is the best way to usually get the job done.  I wouldn't say that I failed when I was younger, but I would say that I was foolish.  I did foolish things and didn't think about my actions.  I loved too much and too hard.  I trusted my heart with so many things that I never should have and that if I had to do it again, probably wouldn't have been so naive again.  I made some mistakes and it is those mistakes that I hope to never make again.  My father never asked for help and when I did, in his eyes, I was something to be taken advantage of-something that he could control.  I remember asking him for help with my homework.  In my younger years, I was terrible at math and he was a math genius so I asked.  Due to my lack of understanding what he was saying, he hit me repeatedly over the head with my math book.  It was humilating.  I remember crying in front of him and asking him "why" repeatedly.  I just didn't understand.  I couldn't do that to someone that I loved, so why was he doing that to me?  After I left my house (I won't call it a home,) when I was seventeen I had some time to reflect.  My father felt as if I was weak and powerless and he took advantage of that assumption.  Now, I share my experiences through my writing and I am provided with all of the strength that I need to continue.  But, still every time I ask for help this situation runs back into my memory and gives me grief.  Guess the best thing to do is to remind myself that I am strong and full of spirit and that I survived all of it to get to this point in my life where I have family and friends that support me.  It is true that he haunts me most days, but I try to overcome his shadow and walk in the sunshine. 

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