More navel gazing
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and have come to some conclusions. And while this is introspective and probably more information than people want, I’m still writing. This is my blog, after all, and if you don’t like it, don’t read it.
I don’t like asking for help. I think it’s because as a child, my support system of responsible adults was almost non-existent, so I had to learn to do a lot of things myself. I learned early on to be pretty self-sufficient.
When TOH and I got married, we were sent to Germany almost immediately after, and again, had to be self-sufficient. We had no family there to help out if we needed it, so we had to learn to manage on our own. When we asked for help with J*, we were treated as if we were the problem. When you ask for help and you get only blame — you stop asking for help, and just trudge on through.
It goes along with the bottling everything up. When you tell someone your most personal thoughts and fears, and you get nothing in return, or even worse, a betrayal, it makes you stop sharing those intimate details. And once you get used to living “in your own thoughts” all the time, it’s easier to continue that way.
So, I guess this is my way of trying to break some of those habits. And it’s still not easy.