I am a strong woman.
I might list my accomplishments so you could assess the veracity of that statement, but if you're reading this, you likely already believe me.
I am a strong woman.
But let me tell you something: I don't always want to be.
A few months ago, I broke my glasses. The frames were bent and sat noticeably, blatantly, mockingly crooked on my face. The lenses were fine, all I needed to do was go to Optical department and ask them to fix the frames. That's it. But I didn't. For months.
Why? Why couldn't I do it? The store is right down the street and I go every fricken week. What was so hard? Just GO, Kanani.
I just couldn't.
Except... what if someone took me? What if someone drove me to the store and talked to the optician for me? What if all I was expected to do was wear the broken glasses to the store? What if, when the optician said, "I can try to fix it but I might break it," someone else shut down that shit with an appropriate comeback?
What if someone took care of me so I didn't have to?
Um. I'm a grown-ass woman, if you didn't realize. I've raised two alarmingly amazing humans from birth to adulthood. Why the fuck would someone need to take care of ME? It's laughable. It's too ridiculous an idea that I don't know that I've ever pondered it before. Which is not to say it's never happened, it's just not a thing I've expected or depended on.
So, growth. I asked my mom to come with me to get my new glasses this past Saturday. I didn't even sweeten the deal with bribes or concessions, I just asked her to come. She had to drive into town for no other reason than to keep me company, and she did. I didn't have to endure the rude indifference at Sam's Club alone, she reminded me not to just settle, and she was there to help me celebrate when I found the pair I wanted. I wasn't alone. I didn't have to be alone. I didn't have to choose to do it alone.
Alone is not strength. Taking care of myself is not the only kind of strength. Alone is easy.
Asking for help is hard. Asking for help requires strength.
I'm thankful she was there, my mom, because even now in my 40s, I still appreciate being parented by my parents. I'm thankful for all the people in my life who, especially recently, have shown me how okay it is to want help and ask for it.
I have learned recently that doing it all on my own, muscling through at the expense of my mental health, boxing up my fears and disappointment? Not the kind of strength I want in my life anymore. It's like I keep trying to prove to myself that I really am the kind of woman I respect, but even my resume of Hard Shit I've Done means nothing. Every single doctor's appointment pre- and post- hysterectomy I went alone, except the one my mom came. I met with the cancer nurse alone. Every single gallbladder appointment I also went to alone. I bring these up because they actually scared me. I was so scared, I was alone, and I thought that's how it was supposed to be. I'm strong, I can handle. I was also scared.
Does going to the optician scare me? Not really, no. But I can acknowledge that these days, my mental health can be fragile. Easy things can be hard things and hard things can feel fucking impossible.
What I've been learning, though, is that I don't have to do any of it alone. Not only can I ask for help, my loved ones are willing to give it with love, compassion, and patience. Maybe-- and here's a really tough thing for me to embrace-- maybe they wanted to help all along but I refused, I didn't know how to receive, maybe I outright rejected it. Maybe my actions taught people I didn't need them. Indeed, Shelley said she'd laugh when I said I struggled, that something was hard for me, that I needed help because she couldn't believe it. She's thought of me as capable and smart, and a vulnerable Kanani seemed kinda ludicrous.
But I'm also going to put this out there because I'm tired of always accepting my bad and believing I'm the only one responsible. Maybe it's also true that people let me down, didn't know how to help, didn't offer help even when I asked for it. Maybe it's also true that they blamed me for the situation I was in, gaslit me, or talked so loud they couldn't hear my voice. Maybe they intentionally ignored me because secretly they actually reveled in my "weakness" because it made them feel strong. Maybe I was taught, over and over again, that asking for help was not safe. And I'm not pointing fingers right now, I'm just saying I'm not gonna hold the bag anymore when it ain't mine to carry.
There's a meme I saw that said something like "most people don't want to be a part of the process, they just want to be part of the outcome." My process right now involves lots of asking for things. I need a lot, I realize, and I'm asking for it as often as I feel able to. I need someone to come with me to get new glasses, to be with me when I call the cable company, to remind me to eat something between pole classes, to make a bulk trash pick-up appointment, to tell me exactly what time we're going and how I'm going to get there. I'm going to drive you all fucking crazy with how much I need, how much I ask for, and even what I don't ask for even when it's SOOO obvious that I want and need to ask.
And I hope like fuck that in the end, I will be healthier, happier, and totally okay that I irritated the shit out of you. And I hope like fuck you're still there in the end... and that I still want you there.
NOTE: Even though mom came with me to get my glasses, I didn't need her to do the talking and explaining and asking and shit. I did all that. Often, it's the support I want/need because I can absolutely do the things myself, I just don't always want to. So, just showing up is a huge deal, friends. We don't always need to have the right words or know what to do, just being there with love matters a fuck ton.
