What If I Can Learn To Accept Help With A Whole Heart, Not A Cringe?

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The other day I wheeled twelve bags of crushed rock across the Home Depot parking lot to my car and opened my back hatch. I hadn’t lifted the first bag into my trunk when a nice man my age came over and asked if I wanted help. His tone was such that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. And if I wasn’t sure, the fact that he started to lift the first bag off the cart made it clear.

This was when the recoil in me began.

It’s a predictable and consistent feeling I find so hard to describe. It’s like Disgust had a baby with Refusal and the progeny is this gnawing feeling. It’s sort of like the words “I accept help” sitting inside a circle with fifty slashes across it. As in, “Hell no, I won’t accept help!”

But it’s nuanced. In the case of the bags of rock, it has to do with the fact that I want to lift the rocks myself. I want the exercise. I’ve been lugging bags of mulch across the Home Depot parking lot this season and have successfully avoided offers of help. I’m cheerful and tell them this is how I’m trying to keep myself young. Maybe because they see that I can lift the mulch and put it in my car, they realize I’m able to do this task, so they let me be.

Rocks are a lot heavier than mulch, so it would be reasonable to take one look at me — a nearly 60-year-old woman — and figure, “Oh, my. I better help this lady.” It would be so sweet and kind, too.

But inside me is a person who’s had a history of physical capability, and who thinks physically doing something is a given. Also inside of me is a person who likes to do things. I’m combined-type ADHD, which means I like to hyper-focus as much as I love to move around. I’m a chore lover, a yardwork lover, a drag/lug/haul lover.

So, there I was having to share this great love of mine with the nice man in the parking lot, and all I wanted to feel was my go-to gnawing.

But I didn’t. This time I decided to feel something else. I’m trying to practice and grow inside of me an acceptance of and gratitude for someone’s help. Since I’ve grown personally from my coaching training, I know to look for spots where I can practice new thinking and new self-management. It’s hard, but when I make breakthroughs, it becomes so obvious how much harder it is to not grow and live in the struggle.

It’s tricky.

With those rocks, it wasn’t just a matter of wanting a little exercise. There was a more insidious catch. I felt squeamish that this stranger would go out of his way to give to me. I felt unworthy of his help.

Trust me, oh trust me — I loathe admitting that. I don’t want to be limited in that way. But if I don’t shine a light on this, how am I going to unburden myself of this giant rock that sits on my ability to feel worthy and allow someone the joy of helping me?

Helping and giving teeters at the top of my personal value ladder. We all want to be helpful. How great does it feel to know you made a difference? How pivotal can this be when you’re feeling down on yourself? What can this do to your self-concept? Giving to others builds meaning in life.

Each time I deny someone these things because I don’t feel I deserve their help, I’ve created a loss for them. Further, when I accept someone’s generosity with an understanding of the give-and-take cycle between people, then I’ve genuinely accepted their gift. It’s one thing to fake-smile and say thank you but deep inside feel the gnawing. It’s quite another to fully receive as someone worthy. When this happens, their gift turns into love.

I’ve learned this gnawing feeling is likely from a long-ago strategy I built to make sure I stay independent for various reasons. There’s plenty out there written about this. My gnawing keeps me safe from vulnerability which also keeps me blocked from beautiful interactions with kind people who want to help lift my heavy bags of rock.

I don’t want life to be like that.

But there’s hope. It starts with letting go and then opening myself to the potential beauty of a give-receive interaction.

I practiced with that man. I let go, softened, opened, got receptive, and started to chat with him. He was engaging, funny, and nice. We enjoyed some conversation as we lugged bags of stone into my car. It was a delightful, short, genuine connection. I thanked him as he started to turn to the store. This is when I noticed his hat and shirt — Cal Berkeley and UVA.

“Oh! Cal and UVA!” I said.

“Why? Did you go to Cal?” he asked.

“No, but I went to UC Davis and both my kids went to UVA. They’re Wahoos.”

He smiled and nodded. “As long as they’re not yahoos.” We both laughed as he walked towards the store and I got in my car. I drove off happy as could be in my vulnerability and acceptance. I can’t believe all this time I never knew how lovely this could be.

What happened between that man and me became the latest addition to the community of people. It was also an addition to each of our tallies of human connection — however small, however random — that is so important in life, from young age to old.

For the first time in my life, I saw my future as someone who can receive help with sincerity and gratitude.

So, who’s next out there? Who wants to meet me at Home Depot later this week? I have another cart of rocks to load into my car. Let me know. With a whole heart, I’ll accept your love — and bicep strength.

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Stay cool out there, folks.