The Beauty Behind Asking for Help
Asking for help is one of the best lessons I’ve learned in my adulthood.
In February, I tore both of my ACLs simultaneously while learning to ski. I’m healing well and things are almost back to normal, but at the time, I had to figure out how to sit still, and how to navigate my four-floor walkup apartment to get to physical therapy. While I had to accept the temporary changes of my day to day, the experience itself taught me lessons for a lifetime.
I learned that physical inactivity does not equate to laziness, or living the dreaded ‘sedentary lifestyle’ against which our doctors warn us. I learned that I’m tougher than I thought I was. Of all the lessons, like mile markers on a highway, I found learning to ask for help was my destination, the most meaningful part of the journey.
Something about a freak accident really kicks the borderline-cheesy sentimental part of your brain into high gear.
Aside from my professional life, often full of big projects and collaboration among colleagues, I’ve always embraced what I like to call a “no, I’m good, thanks!” attitude. No, I’m good, thanks! I can lift that heavy box on my own. No, I’m good, thanks! I don’t need to take your seat on the subway. I never wanted to inconvenience people or make anyone go out of their way for me. After my injury occurred, I was fortunate enough to have many friends and family members reach out to offer support. Guess what I would respond?
It wasn’t until a few days before my surgery when I decided to change that. Some friends came to my apartment to wish me well. As they left, one of them hugged me and said “…and you’re going to work on telling us when you need help, right?”
In that moment, I realized: it was time to ask for help.
After the surgery, I asked those friends to keep me company when I was in a brace. They even helped with household tasks like washing dishes and taking out the trash. Another friend bought me a meal delivery service because I couldn’t get groceries. I realized that these favors weren’t an inconvenience — they wanted to do it. If the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.
We already know that helping people feels good. We hold doors open for strangers, we offer directions to lost tourists on the sidewalk. I realized that accepting help is a beautiful action because it elicits the same emotion. Think of how well you can accomplish something if you had support behind you. Accepting help is a catalyst for a bonding experience, maybe a laugh, or mutual frustration-turned-celebration when you finally finish that IKEA shelf. You’re also gifting someone the emotion of feeling good by allowing them to help you.
My injury journey has been a whirlwind, but it’s given me wisdom I can always take with me.
Now I know, I’m good. Thanks.
