I’ll be blunt. I’m asking for help.
No, I’m not in dire straits. My health is fine despite all my previous efforts to wear myself down. My family are wonderful and well, and my friendships are good and strong. My home is a place of love and respite. And I’m doing better and better at taking good care of myself and keeping it all on the rails.
Still, I need help. It bothers me to admit it, but I need to say it: to myself, out loud, and to anyone who’s listening.
Mind you, I don’t exactly know what kind of help I need. But in a general way, I am moving from a perspective of “I can do the improbable and the impossible both, all by myself!” to, “I have no idea what my path is, and I really would like some energy, a sign, and a helping hand.”
It takes a lot for me to do this. I like to think I’m strong and capable, and it makes me feel a bit weak and whiney to ask for help. Besides, I’ve been so blessed in life, I really feel like I should exclusively be a helper, not the helpee. But I’ve delved into the depths of my darkness in a time of great personal change and growth, and the answer is clear: I can’t get where I’m going without help.
I’ve been here before. I feel okay. I’ve turned my head to the sky and asked for what I need, and the answer came clearly, as it’s always done before: the help I need is inside me. All the choices are mine. The path is mine to define, and I will not be given more than I can handle.
This is the cornerstone of my faith, and the foundation of my being.
Help is on the way.