Some days, the guilt of being sick hurts in a place I don’t know how to explain.
I see what needs to be done. I see the responsibilities, the bills, the everyday things that don’t stop just because I’m not feeling well. I see the people I love doing what they can, and I want so badly to make things easier.
It hurts to need help when what I wanted was to help.
There is so much I want to give. In my head, I’m doing more. I’m working, following through, taking something off somebody else’s shoulders. Then I have to face what I can actually manage that day, and sometimes I feel defeated before I even get started.
When I say, “I can’t today,” there is so much I’m leaving out.
I wanted to.
I really thought I could.
I’m scared you’re tired of hearing this.
I’m tired of having to say it.
I worry that what people can see looks smaller than how hard I’m trying.
They might see something that didn’t get done. I’m thinking about how many times I tried to get myself to do it. How I kept telling myself, “Give it a little longer. Maybe you’ll feel better.” How disappointed I was when the day kept moving and I still couldn’t do what I meant to.
And I hate asking for help when I need it the most.
I’ll sit there trying to figure out how to handle something I’m already struggling with, because saying “I need you” feels harder than it should. I think about how tired everyone else must be. What they already have going on. Whether I’ve asked for too much lately.
Sometimes I hope someone will notice, because I don’t know how to ask without feeling like I need to apologize before they even answer.
Then someone asks if I’m okay, and I say yes.
Even though I needed that moment. Even though that was my chance to be honest.
The words come out before I let myself admit how much I’m struggling, and afterward I’m still sitting with the same need, wishing I’d said something.
That’s a hard thing to admit. I want to be understood, but sometimes I hide how bad it’s gotten. I want someone beside me, but I’m afraid of becoming another responsibility on their list.
And accepting the help doesn’t always quiet that fear. I can be grateful while mentally keeping track of everything I feel I owe. I’m already wondering how I’ll make it up to someone who hasn’t even asked me to.
I wish asking felt as simple as the words themselves.
“Can you help me?”
Without rehearsing it. Without explaining every symptom. Without needing to prove that I tried hard enough on my own first.
Because I am trying. And sometimes I’m exhausted from trying in ways nobody can see.
I care about what falls on other people when I can’t do my part. I care about the plans that change. I want to be someone my family can lean on, too. I want to say, “I’ve got it,” and know I have the strength to follow through.
I want to enjoy a better day without feeling like I have to spend every second making up for the difficult ones. I want to rest without thinking about what still needs doing and who will have to do it.
Even when nobody makes me feel guilty, I find ways to do it myself.
I catch myself wondering whether I’ve done enough to deserve a break, as if being unwell is only acceptable once everything else is taken care of.
I would never want someone I love to lie there struggling because they were afraid to ask me for help. It would hurt to know they thought they had to earn that from me.
But when it’s my turn to need something, I have such a hard time believing I’m allowed to ask.
I don’t have a beautiful ending for this today. I’m hurting. I’m frustrated. I miss the freedom of being able to do something simply because I want to, without having to figure out whether my body will let me.
I’m still learning how to say I need help and leave the apology out of it.
For now, I just need the people I love to know that when I can’t show up the way I wanted to, it hurts me, too. There are things I’ve had to leave undone that I’m still carrying around in my head.
When I tell you I can’t, please know how much I wanted to.
And when I finally ask for help, please know it took a lot for me to say it out loud.