When asking for help doesn’t come naturally

When asking for help doesn’t come naturally

The blog has been quiet of late, that’s for sure. There’s nothing I hate more than a blogger telling us all why they haven’t blogged, but it is a precursor to the rest of my post, so I’m going to! 

At the end of June at the (over)ripe-old age of 25, I finally moved out of home! Wahoo! It’s something I’ve wanted (needed?) for a long time so it’s amazing that it’s finally here. Setting up my little home has taken time since I’m starting from scratch – and it didn’t help that I took an excellent little holiday in the middle of it all! But now that I’m all settled in I’ve been reflecting on my little exercise in independence which has ended up being more of an exercise in asking for help. 

I’ve thought of myself as a fairly independent woman for a while now. Of course, I’ve been living at home and therefore, not really shouldering ALL the costs of living thanks to a generous Mum, but for the most part I paid my way. 

One thing that I value highly is knowing I can do things on my own. I never borrow large sums of money from anyone and I always make sure I can afford what I want (necessities or not) before I commit to it. Whether it’s my holidays or that dress from ASOS, there are no credit cards or Afterpay commitments in sight. If I can’t pay upfront, I don’t do it. Even going onto a phone plan was nerve-wracking for me, I’d rather pay the lump sum, to be honest. 

Obviously, I’ve got an enormous amount of privilege in a myriad of different areas that let me live this way. I have absolutely nothing against other people borrowing money, it’s just one of those things that I can’t reconcile with my own finances. 

I’m truly a Hufflepuff at heart and I love helping other people. I’m an Acts of Service, Quality Time kind of gal and I love offering these things to other people but I’m less inclined to accept them myself. I think it’s a matter of pride (it has been suggested that I have a bit of the Gryffindor in me too, something that horrified me at first but I’ve since come to accept), there’s just something about accepting help that makes me cringe. Don’t even start me on asking for that help. 

So, when it came to moving out, I was well-aware that I didn’t know what to look for in a rental property. I knew if I found some piece of furniture I liked, it would be a struggle for me to carry it up on my own and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to afford the best of the appliances, homewares, etc. In my mind I thought, “Well, I’ll just do without those things for a while then”. It made more sense to me to do without a fridge than to ask for help. 

I worked out pretty quickly that that wasn’t going to work. Whether it was asking for accompaniment to view apartments, asking for help lifting flatpack furniture up a tight stairwell or creating a housewarming registry (because, why shouldn’t I ask for help buying nice things? My married friends got to ask for them! Am I not allowed nice things just because I’m not walking down the aisle anytime soon? All rhetorical questions) I needed to ask for help … a lot.

Asking for help doesn’t come easy to me – I assume it doesn’t come easy to a lot of people. Of course, the help I’m needing lately is almost entirely physical, practical help but there will come a time (there already have been times) when the help I’ll need is emotional, spiritual, etc etc. I’m glad this exercise in independence has turned out to be more of an exercise in being more dependent on my friends and family. It’s a tough pill to swallow at a time when I thought I’d be standing on my own two feet more than ever, but it’s a pill that will probably make life a lot easier down the road. It’s certainly making my life a lot easier for now. 

1 Comment

  1. Theresa Smith Writes August 30, 2019 / 8:49 pm

    Another great reflection piece! I hope you quite settled in now. And I agree, nice things shouldn’t only come to those moving out because they’re getting married.

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