#1296 - It's hard
It's hard to ask for help.
It's damn hard.
It's like exposing an open wound for someone else to see.
I don't have problems showing my scars. They may not always be pretty, but they all prove that I've overcome the pain and healed the wound.
They are evidence of my victories over adversities.
But an open wound is an entirely different game.
One day, when I was a stubborn teenager, I was cutting the hedge around the house. Until then, it was a task that I always shared with my father. Or I should say he used to do it, and I was just a helper. That day, however, I was home alone and wanted to do it fast, to prove to my father that I wasn't a kid anymore.
A stubborn teenager with something to prove, what could go wrong?
Trying to do some magic trick with the hedge cutter, I got a nasty cut on my finger. And, as if it was scripted, my father arrived precisely at that moment. I didn't want to show my weakness. I didn't want him to think I couldn't do it alone. So, I wrapped my finger as best as possible and, hiding the pain, played cool.
Once he was gone, the work was almost done. I removed the rough bandage, and my finger was utterly blue. I got scared and ran to the GP, who luckily lived nearby. After lecturing me about the danger of my behaviours, he cleaned, disinfected and bandaged the wound properly.
That evening I minimized the accident with my father. But I still have a scar and reduced sensitivity on the tip of that finger.
I should have learned the lesson about asking for help that time.
But I didn't.
I still struggle to ask for help. I stoically hide the pain.
Until I don't have other options.
And that's when I learn the creative power hidden in opening up, showing my wounds and asking for help.
Will I learn the lesson this time?