I can do it myself
Kiki is reaching around into the side pocket of her backpack to grab her poncho. It is pouring rain. No, it is sheeting rain. It is blinding rain. It is rain coming at us sideways. We’re standing off to the side of the path, somewhere between Rabinal and Ponferrado or maybe just outside Triacastela. I don’t remember. I remember the rain. I remember starting to help Kiki grab the poncho. I remember her telling me, no, I’ve got it. I can do it myself. And I remember thinking: Yes, I know you can do it yourself. That’s not why I am offering.
In that moment, I saw myself so clearly it just about floored me. Kiki was the mirror.
I was the one who almost always refused help. I was the one who conflated being helped with being helpless, who interpreted an offer of assistance as a criticism of my abilities. “I can do it myself” had pretty much been my motto for as long as I could remember. Sometimes it takes someone else doing just what you have done, saying just what you would have said, to shake you awake.
It occurred to me, there in the downpour, in the mud, at the tail end of a tough day, while watching my companion struggle (successfully, of course) to extract the poncho from the pocket of her backpack, that when someone offers help it may have absolutely nothing to do with whether they think you’re capable of handling the situation by yourself.
I knew Kiki was capable. I had seen her grab the poncho a dozen times or more. I offered my help to be of service, to perform a small act of kindness, to show friendship, to connect in the moment. When Kiki refused (as I had so many times refused such offers)—I can do it myself!—she was not just proclaiming her self-sufficiency, she was depriving me of this opportunity to be a friend. Of course she didn’t do it for that reason, or knowingly, just as I had not all those many times I had refused such offers.
Lesson learned? I am trying.
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I’m crying. Because dammit I recognize myself here too. Reminds me of the Willie Nelson song (which also makes me cry): “Tonight I’d like you to rock me to sleep. I’d like you to sing me a song. I’m tired of trying to figure things out. I’m tired of being so strong…” (and the rest of the song). Why oh why is it so hard to ask for, or even just accept, help? The curse (and maybe a bit of blessing) of being a strong woman.
Damn. Now I’m crying. So the challenge is continuing to be the strong woman, continuing to believe in your own abilities but welcoming (or at least not rejecting!) offers that are really about friendship and connection and not about “Help me I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.” Because, we CAN get up. As we (both) have proven so so many times. P.S. I love you.
Lesson learned when I had cancer. I took offered and needed help and said thank you. Not.. “You don’t or did not have to do this
which lessens the gift of helping for them…
I love this insight, Theresa…how we can, without meaning to, lesson the gift. And yes, GIFT. That’s the word.
I don’t necessarily remember this exact moment, but I do remember you offering to help me with my poncho and me refusing (a lot) because « I didn’t want to be a burden, I am supposed to be an independent, strong woman, etc etc etc. » Until Galicia and that crazy, soaking, endless rain. That finally made me relent. And I didn’t suddenly turn into candy floss and melt – I was the same strong person who had walked 400 miles in the past month. I just wasn’t getting soaked to the skin as I struggled to get that stupid poncho over me and my pack. Even I could see the lesson in there . . . Thanks for being the patient teacher to help me see it.
We taught each other, my friend.
Chicken and egg feelings here…as I learned to be very independent by my life choices. It just doesn’t occur to me to ask for help or think I can use help. Strong people need vulnerability and softness, too.
Exactly. It’s getting over the conflation of help and helplessness…
Wow, this is me and my sister in law. Sometimes she goes too far when offering, and sometimes I go too far when saying “no thanks.” We haven’t found the right balance yet, though I think a good middle ground would be for her to ask “how can I help” or “can I help in any way.” Thanks for the insight in this.
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