Tale as old as time,
Especially for the high-functioning individuals like us. (One could argue that high-functioning doesn't exist and is merely hyper-performative behaviour disguised as High-functioning. But I digress. )
That sweet spot between the desire to handle everything by ourselves because we don't want to burden others with our issues and troubles, AND the desire to openly talk about our pain and show our wounds to our loved ones, is a nightmare.
Because we want and need help, but we can't bring ourselves to ask for it because we don't want to hurt others. We don't want to burden them with our anxiety or our depression or whatever mental ailment we're carrying. We don't want them to worry about us, because we know what they're going through, and we think that adding to the pile of concerns would hurt them more.
So we keep to ourselves.
We soldier on.
We pretend and we go on autopilot.
We learn and read and try to understand what's plaguing us, and sometimes we become too well-versed in psychology, things become so clear in our minds that we believe we've mastered it. We understand, so of course, we can fix it. But it's false. We don't understand shit. We don't control shit. What it does, however, is hinder our ability to receive help and, even more so, to ask for it.
I researched, read, did a lot of work on myself, and thought I had it figured out. I mean, I understood my suicidal tendencies, right? I understood my anxiety and depression, and that diagnosis still dangling on top of my head, but never truly confirmed because I don't follow their textbook. I thought I had it under control, and I even managed to fool my therapist and myself for a while, thinking I had everything under control.
But I didn't. I was masking.
I tried to harm myself, almost mind-absently. I was caught off guard. I realized that I had relapsed into my old habits. I compartmentalized and ignored the pain and the stress I was feeling, and one single snap was enough to undo a lot of progress. One single snap was enough to almost get me.
My partner was here, and I am grateful it happened when he was there. He found the right words, the right key to the door I put between my deepest feelings and myself.
I needed help.
I didn't have it all figured out.
No one ever does, and no one ever should.
It humbled me. I went to talk to my therapist about it, and finally, we started to explore those emotions I kept bottled up inside me. Finally, I was made comfortable enough to share my burden, to ask for help, and to be willing to receive it.
This sentence, written in the picture I posted, is advice I should have applied to myself. It is one, I still try to keep in mind when dealing with others. It is also one I hope others would also follow for themselves.
Don't assume that because you feel like you have it all figured out, you don't need help. That you can't ask for it or that you can't receive it.
There is no shame in needing help.
No shame in asking for it.
No shame in receiving it.
After all, that's also what makes us human.
