Letting go and asking for help

I’m stubborn. Ask my family, ask my friends, ask people I work with or the women I trained with for my 1/2 marathon last year.  Heart condition? I’ll be fine, and I was, but I was also pretty stubborn along the way.  Sometimes it’s needed to push through stuff and get to the other side and sometimes it’s painful because I am afraid to admit that I don’t know how to do something. Would you like an example? Of course you do.

I recently bought a bike pump and went to pump up my bike tires.  I watched the demo video by a nice man and he made it look super easy. I followed his instructions and the small attachment that was supposed to fit snugly over the valve on my tire hung loosely.  I started to pump the tire and nothing…watched the video again and tried again and still nothing. I sat frustrated, looking through youtube videos, but none of them showed me what I needed to know. I felt embarrassed that I didn’t know how to even pump up my bike tire.

So rather than stomping my feet, having a melt down and going to my room to sulk (well, okay, I sulked for a few minutes) I decided to ask for help. I took my  pump and one of my tires into the store where I purchased my bike and I asked to be shown how to do it. And they very kindly and without judgement showed me how to pump up my bike tire.  Turns out I didn’t need the little gadget to attach to the valve, that the hose screwed directly on.  And then I found one of the best upper body exercises ever in getting my bike tire up to 100 psi. I left feeling so much better than I had going in.

As I was leaving, I saw a white feather on the carpet near the door. I always take them as signs that my Dad is near. Then I went to get groceries and asked how many points I had on my frequent shopper card and I had enough points to save me $7.21. 721 was the house number of the house that our family lived in on the Island. I feel like he was nearby to remind me that I do occassionally need to ask for help.

If I had questions about anything regarding cars, bike pumps, wine, movies, or some such, I called my Dad. On the Sunday before he died, I had called him to talk about a documentary on jazz I had just watched and we wound up talking about jazz music and NASCAR and other stuff that I don’t quite remember, but I just remember that he knew so much and that I was so grateful that we had talked before he died.

I miss him, still, even after 5 years. Each day there is something that reminds me of him, and sometimes that memory brings a sense of sadness. I don’t sit and wallow in the grief or mourn all day long, but I do miss him everyday. I miss his hugs, I miss his voice on the phone and I’m starting to forget what he sounded like and that sucks.

His presence reminds me that I can’t do this alone, that I do need to reach out and ask for help. I am getting better at it. I am blessed that I have beautiful supportive friends and family that I can reach out to and that remind me to ask for help.

From now on, in the moments that I get frustrated and the bullheadedness  (I’m a Taurus, go figure) starts to kick in, I am going to do my best to stop, take a deep breath and let go of the fear of judgement and ask for help.

You see, we give someone the gift of being able to give when we open ourselves to recieve help. And everyone loves gifts.

Heaps of love and light and the reminder to breathe, let go of the fear of judgment and to ask for help. xoxo


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