Before moving house,
I had reached a stage in writing and public speaking that meant there
were lots of potential avenues to explore, but I was finding it hard
to know where to focus my time and attention. A common piece of
advice to writers and entrepreneurs is to find a coach or mentor.
Initially I rejected the idea. The cost and not knowing how to find
the right person put me off.
I didn’t ask for
help.
I recently found
myself discussing the new church we’ve been attending with a couple
who have been part of it for the last year. I had some questions
about how things are done and found myself saying ‘I suppose
it’s okay to ask, we’re still new’ the
response was one of surprise ‘Of course it’s okay
to ask, it’s always good to ask questions.’
I know this, I’ve
written about the importance of staying curious and questioning
people and life in general. But this comment of mine led me to
acknowledge that I have a reticence to ask questions that imply I
need help or that I don’t fully understand.
Asking for help can
feel like failing. Feelings of pride, indebtedness and fear prevent
us from removing the obstacles progress. As children we are
encouraged to ask for help. At some point, maybe as we strive for
independence, the willingness to ask disappears. There’s a quiet
voice that whispers ‘surely you should know that’ and the
underlying fear that people will find out that we’re not as
knowledgeable, skilled or talented as they thought.
In order to grow and
make progress, these fears must be faced.
It’s one thing to
read a book or an article and quite another to speak to a person.
This is a difficult post to write, as I’m still stuck, discovering
this is a problem and making baby steps towards progress.
I’m very happy to
ask for directions, confirmation that I am on the right train or even
for someone to reach the rice that is stuck at the back of the top
shelf in the supermarket.
It’s dreams,
unnecessary goals that satisfy a yearning. This is when I struggle to
ask for help. Perhaps it is the fear of criticism or ridicule that my
helper with think the dream is unreachable or ridiculous.
Practice makes
perfect, apparently. At least Aristotle would argue that repetition
creates habit. So I will practise asking for help (even when perhaps
I don’t need it).
I will recognise
that when others ask for help they may be making requests wrapped in
their precious, fragile dreams and I may have the privilege of
helping them actualise it.