Asking for help

Growing up, my dad saw it as an act of strength to never ask for help. Once a fellow NYPD officer never shared his daughter had cancer, at least until she died. Dad thought this was fantastic, this cop never had his hand out and never brought his problems to work. All I could think at the time was how sad, how lonely. Your daughter is dying and you don’t feel close enough, safe enough to tell your coworkers. I never voiced that because my dad thought this was the example to live.

Later as I had my children and Kate was really sick, except for my mom, I didn’t have those I felt safe enough to ask for help. I tried a few times but always felt like such a burden.

One time, Eric was in surgery and an in-law called to say something had come up and they couldn’t get the girls from school. I felt like I had stopped breathing. My son was “under” the knife and suddenly I had no one to pick up my girls from school. I was in the hall outside of the surgery waiting room. Some stupid court trial was on with people arguing over a washer/dryer and I was just trying to breath. I did call a friend and she told me she was there and she would take care of my girls.

Joe had a job of a two week rotating schedule. By the time the kids were in activities I knew one of those weeks he wasn’t available at all. After being burned so much, I built year after year a schedule where I knew I could manage the schedules without burdening anyone else.

Now I come to the point that this won’t work anymore. It isn’t any easy place for me to be. It completely stresses me out and makes me seize inside. I know this is God pushing me outside my comfort zone. But sometimes I just wish life would be a little bit easier. #askingforhelp #help #earlyonsetalz #alz #caregivers #faith #catholic