#24. Why is asking for help so hard?

I had surgery and had get over the fact that it's OK to not have someone built in to help me when I need it.

In February, I had to do two things that were relatively difficult for me:

1. Navigate the French healthcare system to get a needed surgery (nothing serious, don’t worry).

2. Ask people for help.

If you, like me, are a hyper-independent eldest daughter, expat, or type-A people pleaser, I am sure you can guess which one was more challenging for me.

(Hint: It wasn’t navigating the French healthcare system…)

Asking people for help does not come naturally to me, though I am almost always more than happy to help people out. It’s my people-pleasing side. I help people, people like me, I’m validated! Simple! But somehow, asking for help, even when explicitly REQUIRED in order to leave the hospital after undergoing general anesthesia and a semi-invasive medical procedure (again, it wasn’t serious, I promise), was extremely hard.

I debated about what to do. I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone, especially since this surgery was taking place on a Tuesday at 2pm in the 16e arrondissement of Paris, but I would not have been allowed to leave the hospital without someone to pick me up. I don’t have a built-in partner like many of my friends in Paris do. I don’t even have a go-to emergency contact person. My mom offered to fly out, but that seemed excessive since it was an outpatient procedure and I really just needed someone to take me home.

Several friends have flexible schedules, and I rationalized that one of them would be willing to help me out. Two close friends of mine are a couple, and when I mentioned it to the girlfriend, she said her boyfriend (whose schedule is more flexible than hers) would be happy to pick me up. I felt weird because I’d probably never be able to return the favor, since he has his girlfriend built in as his go-to for this sort of thing. But when I asked him, he didn’t hesitate, agreed immediately, and on the day-of, arrived on time, with flowers. He rode with me in an Uber home as I loopily talked to him about god knows what. He’s a chef and kindly prepared dinner for me, stayed for a while to make sure I was stable, and checked on me later in the evening. He’s a good friend.

Why is it so hard to ask for help? There’s no reason to feel guilty about asking for help, and everyone has free will to say “no”. There’s no obligation, and that’s also what I was afraid of. There was a fear that no one would want to help me, that I’d be stranded at the hospital, that I’d have to ask my mom to fly over and inconvenience herself to help me. This is hard to admit, but part of it also was the shame that, at 40, I have yet to find a partner who is my built-in pickup person. I haven’t met him yet, and I’m fine with that (I mean, as fine as I can be, because I sure have tried, but that’s a different topic), but a moment like this was a sharp reminder that I am single, I do not have a built-in helper, and I must ask someone who is not obliged in anyway to help me, to help me.

As difficult as it was for me to do, I am glad that I was forced to ask for help. It made it less scary since I’m certain I’ll have to do it again in the future. It’s not a test of who is a loyal friend and who is not, it’s not about worrying that it’s putting someone out, and it’s not even about worrying that I won’t be able to return the exact favor to someone. If they want to do it, they will, and if they don’t that’s fine — there is always another solution.

There’s a vulnerability involved in this as well. I am a hyper-independent, strong woman, who can do most things on my own. It felt counter to my personality to ask for help, since I’m usually so capable. But there are always going to be situations where I can’t solve the problem myself, where I need someone to support or help me in some way, where I have to soften and admit that I can’t do it alone. And that’s OK. This isn’t just about those post-anesthesia, pick-me-up-from-the-hospital times, but even as I have been searching for jobs and the usual tactics aren’t working. I have a network that I can tap, admit I’m having trouble, and I know that they will help if they can. I would do the same.

It was also a reminder that there is absolutely NO SHAME in not having a built-in person to help me. Sometimes people’s built-in person doesn’t want to help, doesn’t make time to help, or doesn’t prioritize their partner, and personally, I’d rather have someone who is willing to make time to help me, even if that person is “just” a friend. Until I find that person, and we choose to help each other as one another’s built-in, emergency contact, pick-me-up-from-the-hospital person, I have my incredible village of Parisians ready, willing and able to help. And I’m here to help them out, too.

I’m curious: Have you ever had an experience like mine? What was it like?

[For anyone interested: My French hospital experience was excellent, though I can’t compare to US or UK hospitals as I have (thankfully) not encountered those in recent years. I had the option to have the procedure at the American Hospital or at a local clinic, and I chose the local clinic since it was the same surgeon and one-third the cost. It was weird to take the metro to the hospital, sit in a waiting room for my number to be called, then go straight back into surgery, but it was also quite efficient. I had my own cubicle with my own bathroom, attentive and kind nurses, and had generally pleasant experience. The staff in the OR blew me away with their warmth, and my surgeon came to check on me afterward with a smile. It might have been the fact that I hadn’t eaten since 8am, but the meal I got after I woke up was delicious — a month later, I still think about the brioche…]

After surgery, I had to recover. I took two full weeks off from looking for jobs, interviewing, or doing anything “productive”. I went for walks when I felt able, I continued my yoga streak through restorative yoga practices until I felt well enough to flow, I cooked simple but delicious meals, and watched a lot of The Office. It was a blessing to have this surgery in February when the weather was relatively miserable and I could be cozy indoors without feeling like I was missing out on beautiful weather (I was missing out on nothing, though this past February saw more than the 38 cumulative hours of sunlight that February 2024 got). The sun came out as I returned to the land of the living (and not just existing), and the recovery was absolutely needed. A month on, I’m happy to share that although I haven’t yet found a new job, I’m pretty much recovered from surgery, just in time to bloom into spring.

What else I’ve been up to:

• I just finished week 8 of The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I’ve done it before, back in 2022, I did it all through my recovery from surgery. Essentially, it’s a workbook with themes and assignments (a weekly artist’s date, writing about your dream life, exploring your childhood, etc.) to help you recover your inner artist, whatever that may look like, I am finally starting to feel the creative juices flowing again. It’s a great feeling. More to come.

• I’ve been crushing my skincare, actually using some tools I spent hard-earned money on like my red light therapy masks and microcurrent tools. I am definitely seeing an improvement in my skin after four weeks!

• I’ve read several books! The Body Keeps the Score (necessary reading), Pride & Prejudice (also necessary reading), Cleopatra and Frankenstein (exactly the kind of book I love), Milk Fed (too weird for me, but if you liked Big Swiss, you might enjoy it), Just for the Summer (cute and light, just what I needed), This Is a Love Story (I liked the intertwining storylines), Did You Hear About Kitty Karr? (thought-provoking). I’m always reading at least two books at once. You can follow me on Goodreads if you want.

• I’ve visited a few new-to-me spots I’d recommend (Lao Siam, Bistrot Richelieu, Rori, Maurice) and gone back to some old favorites (Dalia, Partisan, Du Pain et Des Idées).

• I went to the Louvre for the couture exhibit (on until the end of July) with a friend, where my jaw dropped and stayed on the floor for the entirety of the visit (and we got a peek at La Jaconde, aka Mona Lisa). Couture pieces are curated to fit the room in which they are displayed. Every room was a surprise to see what we would find. I loved it.

• I baked cinnamon rolls and copycat Levain blueberry muffins, had countless breakfasts and coffees on my sunny balcony, and walked tens of thousands of steps.

• I introduced Claus the Jellycat croissant to the world (see photo above), created the made-up errand to keep me from going stir crazy, enjoyed afternoon tea at Smith & Son, and paid a visit to Sainte Geneviève’s tomb (iykyk).

• I had my second anniversary of being a French citizen. I haven’t actually popped the champagne yet, but I will celebrate soon!

I’m still figuring out what this newsletter will look like moving forward, but for now, expect a mix of life updates and lessons, Paris things, and general musings.

If you enjoy what you read, consider sharing with a friend or supporting as a paid subscriber. Thanks for being here.