Asking for help is something I am personally terrible at doing. I am wondering if it is a learned art form that we acquire as we grow up which we should learn from healthy parents. My parents were not ones to ask for help from others. Ever. We were discouraged from acknowledging we needed assistance or help from others. I needed help this week and couldn’t bring myself to ask others for it. Luckily others saw that I needed it before something happened and helped me get the medical assistance that I couldn’t seem to get on my own. I was asked a number of times in a number of ways about getting help this week until I ended up in the ER tonight after being at the doctor’s office today. I don’t know how to ask others for help because I have never been around others who ask for help in a way that doesn’t feel overwhelming and intrusive when you do. I feel like the response from others when I do ask for help is scary and unpredictable and tends to make me feel very anxious bordering on panic. Because I panic, I tend to be even more reluctant to allow others to know I am struggling with anything whether it be physical, emotional, or something else like vocational. I feel like the child I was who used to have to go it alone and was punished for reaching out to others while growing up in an abusive household. Today I am back at Step one admitting my life is unmanageable and I am wondering if I will ever get past the unmanagability some days. I wonder if my life has purpose and meaning or if I am just a huge screw up. I wonder if I hurt more people than I help. I wonder if I can get it together right now and put my feet back on solid ground. Some part of me knows that I am going through this because I have been on steroids too much lately for my mood disorder. And yet I still suffer from the black dog of depression shadowing me and not helping my physical health recover. Why does recovery have to be so darn hard to constantly pursue?! I wish it could be a linear line progress that I did not falter upon.