The Horror of Asking for Help

What are some of the most challenging things you had to do in your life? I find it curious that when I ask myself that question, I intuitively search for memories of some epic events that changed the world all at once… I’m sometimes stunned how much easier it is to deal with things that are somewhere out there then to admit my own vulnerability, to admit that I need support and to ask for help.

Yes, there was a time when I went through a heart wrenching break up. My dad got cancer. There was a period when I drank and smoked a tad more then usual. At a certain point I felt useless at work, paranoid that they would discover I didn’t belong there and I would get fired. Now and then I had trouble sleeping and was sick quite often. And yes, every so often I didn’t feel like myself or know what my direction was. Sometimes things seemed to be getting out of my control. But there was no way in hell I was going to ask for help.

I was that meme dog.

Sitting in a flaming room, sipping coffee and thinking “This is fine.” Eventually the heat began to be unbearable. And I acknowledged that ignoring the mess in my head was not okay with me anymore (for more context read The Fear of Being a Freak).

They say that accepting a problem is the first step to making positive changes. Alright then… so how… and when did this happen? How fucked are things? What does it mean for me now… and in the future? What do I do next?

I typed in Google “What to do when…“. I stopped feeling so unique watching how many tips popped up. Ok, I can use those! Except that one thing of course – seeking professional help. Why does it scream at me from every page? I can… and should handle things myself.

After a couple of months, my progress stagnated…

Hm, maybe I should reconsider that professional-help thing… I have a good enough reason. Or do I? I think I’m actually doing pretty alright. Maybe I shouldn’t take up space when there are people with real issues. I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself. What will I say anyway? There is no way I’m willing to dig into my past… Maybe I have no right or reason to ask for help. If I only suffered more. Maybe then I could be entitled to have someone listening to me. If I was dying or something…

But I already felt the heat of the flames and for a moment I put away my cup of coffee and established that it was not fine. That I deserved better. The best actually… Yes I do!

I needed to act quickly, before I stopped believing it again. I wrote an email, hit send and it has snowballed a chain of events.

Two months later I was waiting in a psychotherapist’s office.

I was sweating my ass off in a comfy chair, my legs tangled in a pretzel. However, as I was unloading my shit on the woman in the opposite chair, the pretzel started untangling. She was listening with her head leaned on one side and asking additional questions; “Have you ever thought about it this way?” My mind went boom. The hour flew by.

In the end she suggested “Feel free to make an appointment with your or one of our psychiatrists if you’d like your insurance company to cover the treatment.” I didn’t have any psychiatrist… And I couldn’t afford to pay for the sessions out of my pocket. But I really, really wanted to continue in the meetings. Oh no, now they will find out I’m a scam!

I scheduled the appointment with a psychiatrist recommended by my therapist.

And I was tearing my hair out. What if she laughs at me and says my problems are definitely not good enough? The sweaty pretzel returned. The psychiatrist quizzed me about my family medical history and then she continued, “Alright, so you have trouble with food. Tell me more about it. How did it start?…”

I talked and talked, encouraged by her nodding and spot-on questions. She knew. When I finished, she confirmed my suspicion. Eating and anxiety disorders. “You have a remarkable level of self-reflexion; it takes courage and strength to reach out for help by yourself. I want you to know there are always options in case you would find yourself feeling like there is no way out.”

Suddenly, I weighed a thousand kilos less. She explained to me in detail medication alternatives, their pros and cons. “They bring a relief that might lower your motivation to work on yourself, so I’m glad you decided to do the therapy. But remember you can reach out to me any time if you feel too low.” Me and my problems matter! No one will let me drown. I walked out of the office almost jumping.

When my body hurts I go to a doctor; why didn’t it come natural to me to do the same when my soul hurt? Admitting a problem to ourselves and others and asking for help might be one of the most intimidating things out there. But although our paths and pace are different and individual, we should never forget we all always have options.

© Photo by Ivan Caponio

For more context read How I Developed An Eating Disorder and The Fear of Being a Freak