There’s no shame in that

All of these epiphanies, lately…

I don’t ask for help.  Ever.  Ever…. So when I do, rest assured, I’m serious.  I’m normally *way* past needing help.  I’m probably in full emergency mode.  I’m probably losing my cool.

It isn’t my favorite trait.  But it is who I am.  I am independent.  I am determined.  I am like a fortress when I don’t want you in.

And I’m scared shitless.  No joke.  The biopsy got moved to tomorrow because “the doctor reviewed the case and would like to see her sooner.”  Yeah…. greeeeaaat! (that’s sarcasm… just in case it didn’t come through.)

Apparently, my daughter is having this “I’m-a-badass-and-I’m-fine” issue, too.  Oh… so *this* is what it looks like to everyone else, huh?  Not fooling anyone, huh?  Maddeningly sad because all you want to do it reach out and get in to the pain, huh?  Oh.  Yeah.  I get it.

I had this conversation with her:

“Sweetie, it’s okay to worry.  And it’s okay to make me worry.  Because I love you and that’s my job.  My job is to worry and to cry and to hurt with you.  My job is to be there.  My job is to love you.  And if you just let me do that, it’ll be easier for you in the long run.  Trust me.  You don’t have to do this alone.  You are allowed to be afraid.  There’s no shame in that.”

So, in the spirit of learning this life lesson:

I’m afraid.  And I need help.  You can’t be there… not in a tangible way, I suppose.  You can’t hug me.  You can’t hold my hand and tell me that this is going to be okay.  But send some happy thoughts my way because this. is. hard.  And someday, when you need help, ask for it.  It’s okay to need it.

There’s no shame in that.

I’ll update you tomorrow after the biopsy.  Until then, pray.

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