Receiving Help ...

I can breathe. I cried. I talked. I'm writing. I'm breathing.

I don't usually ask for help. I avoid it at all costs. For the most part it's because I'm able to handle things. If I can't fix it, I'll fake it until I get through it. Well, I finally asked for help ... back in January. 

I thought it was pretty impressive when I asked to speak with a counselor. I had been directed to it before by family, due to some physical anxiety issues, and I tried it. Yet, I failed to get much out of it, probably because I didn't seek it out myself. Yeah, I accept the blame for that.

This time I stepped out of my comfort zone and personally asked for counseling. Grief Counseling to be exact. I didn't want to wait to deal with it after my mom passed away. She's still here, and with me, perhaps I can utilize the time I have with her now to make the grieving process better ... I don't know. I just know I'm not dealing with it well at this moment in time. So yes, I asked for help.

What today boiled down to is, I had a great conversation with someone outside of my normal network of people and he gave me homework. Flashback to back to school, haha. My homework is to write about what talked about which means ... I can't remember a thing. I completely expected to happen, so I'm trying to strictly focus on how I felt as we talked. So I'll begin there:

Even though I wasn't comfortable with process of talking about myself, I felt he managed to read between my hesitancy and pulled out some, not all, of the details I was struggling with. Such as: 

> I'm getting tired of the Lord asking me to make a choice without all the details. This has happened so many times, I get that faith is important but it is taxing to reach this age and still be expected to step into the dark.

> My analysis of denial is acceptable. I felt validated that even though I have been in denial for such a long time, it's not a bad thing. It's keeping me afloat, surviving, and that's okay.  He compared a lot of it to drowning, which is pretty much the analogy I've been using all along.

> I connected with another panic I hadn't realized was hovering inside of me. If I can't sort through my grief, how am I going to help my son's deal with losing their grandma. I know they'll be okay. We talk about the temple all the time and Heavenly Father's Plan of Happiness. We spend time with her. But they have been praying so consistently for grandma to feel better and I worry that they might see me struggling and then what happens to their little testimonies...

...

This really might only boil down to having someone outside my family to talk to. Someone who doesn't know me so well and expect me to be as strong as I always have been. Really, it might just be having someone who doesn't know me, hold me accountable for little things, like this homework he assigned. Writing about what we talked about and knowing he's going to ask about it in our next session. Or even ask to read it. 

Sharing with someone that doesn't know me my weakness will help me want to prove I can be strong. My family knows I'm strong, but they also don't harbor unrealistic expectations of my weaknesses ... actually they're going through their own, they don't need to worry about mine. So, that might be all this ends up being. And if so, I'm okay with that.