Last night I found an amazing deal on a black leather armchair and ottoman while I was getting groceries. Since I’ve been cleaning out my home office trying to turn it into a coffee drinking, writing, bill paying, reading, wine sipping haven, the timing was perfect. Except that I was still getting groceries…and LOTS of groceries. And my back has been spasming all day. But, still, must have. So, after I finished loading my cart, packed full and with tortilla chips piled high on the top, I then stopped and grabbed the flatbed with my new find from the greeter and went to check out. It took a couple tries on the first corner, but I quickly figured out how to push my heavy grocery cart ahead of me with my left arm (and hip) and pull the flatbed behind me with my right. I even easily lifted the chair so the cashier could scan it along with oodles of soup, cookies, and apples. And wine. Oodles of wine. Then, of course, the cashier offered to find someone to assist me with my large purchase to my car. I said “nah, I got this.” After I checked out, he offered again. Nope, I’m good. In fact, I’m downright proud of myself for negotiating these turns. As I’m leaving, more offers of help. Then of course, as I’m trying to get turned to actually go through the doors with my giant caravan, I turned down one final offer of help. And he wouldn’t listen to me. Despite my insistence that I really got it, he took over on the flatbed. Then he refused to leave me alone until he was assured that he could get it safely packed into my car for me. Not gonna lie. I was kinda annoyed. But I also had to admit, it was really helpful.
Then I got thinking, why in the world am I always so damned determined NOT to ask for help. And then to NOT accept help even when offered. Repeatedly. Sure, sometimes I just want it done my way and don’t wanna have to explain HOW to do it my way. I sometimes assume that others simply can’t do it was well as I can. I’m always a little afraid that others will let me down if I count on their help. Those are downfalls of being a control freak. But really, truthfully, I think more often than not, I simply don’t wanna be a bother. I don’t wanna to be viewed as a burden. And I, for sure, don’t ever wanna be perceived as weak or vulnerable. My determination of doing it myself is like my own way of apologizing for my existence, for my audacity at taking up too much space in the world. I’m starting to think that is just kinda dumb. Because sometimes my back hurts and maybe I should let someone else do the heavy lifting.