Asking For Help...

I need help.

Or rather, I needed help yesterday.

With something big, heavy and uwieldly...something that I couldn't possibly handle myself.

This is the part about not having a partner living at the house with me that I miss (Rusty blogged about not having someone to heat up a can of soup for her when she's sick...don't get me wrong, I miss that too) I usually ask my mother, but she was busy and couldn't help out...and Rich happily volunteered to come by after work and help.

He said, "I'm always happy to help the Sadira!"

In fact, I quite remember he said that when he called in to check if I needed some ginger ale and soda crackers during the last bout of food poisoning, he's actually offered help a lot during the course of the last year. He's done it willingly and happily...

Sometimes I feel as if I've been trying to do things on my own for so long...and, I'm trying not to take advantage of this helpfulness...because there's this weird voice in my head that is telling me that I need to stand up and be very independent in front of people, "tell him, it's OK, but you can figure it out on your own...you don't want him to think you're helpless" I have no idea where this voice is coming from...I think is it some weird cultural dating standard lodged in the back of my brain...something that got stuck in there after reading a well meaning How To Date Nowdays self-help book.

Lord. When did it become so confusing to just be who you are? I am a woman...which means I'm girlie and strong, Independant and in need of help...I can bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan...blah blah... It's like we're stuck in the day and age of the ultimate psychology experement, everyone has a smart theroy and if you do it just right...all will be well in your life. Maybe it's because I'm on the backside of divorce...and I keep thinking somewhere deep inside I did something terribly wrong and if I pay attention to every little detail from now on then I'll be OK (even though that kind of vigillance is exhausting) or that there's some kind of magic club I'm not being let in because I have no idea what is required for membership...Only, I'd really like it more if I could just be myself, try to take care of things on my own when I can, and be able to ask for help when I need it and be very appreciative of everyone who comes forth...and not have that voice in my head pipe up with it's 2 cents worth about playing some game...

Only, I'm not playing around here...this thing is heavy and I need the help...

No game.

End of Story...

Because it's going to rain. And it will get ruined if it sits outside getting all wet and whatnot. And the deliverymen brought it to the house while I was in the shower...I got out just in time to sort of throw my robe around me and watch them climb into their truck and drive away (and now I'm scared we're going to get it stuck in the door way half way in and half way out) I just didn't happen to feel like running down the dirt road after them...the dust sticking to my wet skin, my hair flinging droplets of water all over the neighborhood...my robe flapping in the wind.

Rich should be mightily happy I'm not doing that to him...

Because I don't even want to know the name of that game and what you'd win at the end of that...

**update**

Said heaviness was indeed moved yesterday...there was a lot of grunting, sweating, cursing silently (and not so silently), nervousness, removing of bun-feet and the eventual removing of the front door...but it eventually fit.

Barely.

I was indeed intent on getting this in the house (because it has been raining on and off all morning) and realized that maybe this is how child birth is? "Oh, it's coming out...don't you worry about that...I'll figure it out..." Because I heard myself say several times yesterday, "Oh it's going to fit, it's going in...I don't care how we do it...it's going to work! damnit!"

And it did.

And yes, you get to see pictures...

tomorrow.