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CHAPTER 2


WHY WE DON’T ASK—REALLY

Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood.
Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.
Marie Curie

We do not ask for help because we are afraid. Fear is what stops us from looking someone in the eye, admitting a need, and saying the words, “I need your help.”

Anthropologists describe fear as a natural, protective response to potentially dangerous stimuli. Fear kept our ancestors from venturing into caves populated by people-eating lions. Nowadays, it keeps us from venturing into equally dangerous dark alleys. This protective quality of fear is instinctual. The little hairs stand up on our necks and our eyes widen in anticipation of the risk ahead. This primal fear keeps us safe from harm and protects us from the very real and imminent perils that lie ahead.

We have come far from those days of the cave. For most of us, primal fear lies dormant. Metus gravis, or grave fear, is relatively rare. Living lives of comparative safety, few of us experience the cringing terror that accompanies urgent life or death situations. When we do, we rarely think twice about asking—no, screaming—for the help we need. Our instincts kick in and we react immediately to save ourselves. In those situations, the dread of asking for help usually pales in comparison to the heavy fear we feel if our lives are in danger.

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If we are lucky, we may never have to experience this grave, primal fear. Daily, however, we go through fear of a different kind. This fear is of a lesser nature, and it keeps us quiet when we really want help the most.

What we feel more often is metus levis, or trifling fear. Taking the form of anxiety, concern, worry, and doubt, these ordinary fears do not arise from dangerous circumstances. Instead, they are generated by smaller, imagined threats that have little chance of coming true. These minor fears have little basis in reality, yet we latch on to them as though they were lifelines. Believing the odds to be greater than is actually probable, we accept the imagined threats as realities. Confusing fear with reality is a mistake. A helpful reminder is that FEAR can also be read as Fantasy Expressed As Reality.

Trifling fear can move us to resort to nasty measures to get what we want. Coercion, guilt, bribery, and blackmail are perversions of healthy and respectful mayday calls. Forcing others to help us through either emotional or physical pressure is not only unfair and unethical, it can also be illegal.

Instinctual fear, metus gravis, is necessary for our survival. Trifling fear is not. Trifling fear keeps us safe within our comfort zones. At the same time, it keeps us away from living the lives we always dreamed of. The Mayday! process addresses these trivial fears that get in our way, that stop us from asking for and getting the help we need.

Trifling fear is a liar. It takes a seed of truth and wraps it in falsehood. Then the lie is repeated inside our heads until we are, quite simply, brainwashed. Our intellect reasons that if the kernel is true, then the rest must be equally true, right?

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Wrong. This little fear is the voice of the ego, that part of ourselves that Jung defined as the conscious mind. (From this point on, when I refer to fear, I mean trifling fear unless otherwise noted.) The conscious mind creates an image of how we would like to be: our persona. It works diligently to protect that facade. Yet, if the ego-driven persona is threatened in any way, trifling fear jumps into action. Motivated by self-preservation, this little fear makes a home for itself in our heads and whispers, screams, cajoles, and berates us until we believe its lies and give in.

The Three Riptides of Fear

The sages say that the greatest fear of all is that of death. Three trifling fears appear, for some, no less frightening: Fear of Surrender, Fear of Shame, and Fear of Separation. These fears are like deceptive riptides that pull us away from the help that is waiting on shore. A riptide, or more accurately a rip current, is a powerful stream of water that pulls us seaward. They are difficult to spot since, on the surface, the water may appear calm, even placid. The riptides of the fears of surrender, shame, and separation act in the same way. They seduce us by telling us they only intend to keep us safe, yet following them can leave us alone and floundering. Exploring and understanding these dangerous currents will lessen their power over us and make our mayday calls substantially more effective.

The First Riptide: The Fear of Surrender

Dr. Ahmad put down his scope and reached over to touch the hand of one of his elderly patients. He had just informed her of the diagnosis—cataract of the eye—and she was visibly shaken, terrified by the prospect of surgery. After reassuring her that the procedure was routine and that she’d be in great hands with the hospital staff, Dr. Ahmad asked her why she had taken so long to come in and see him about her weakening eyesight.

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“Well,” she replied, quickly forgetting her fear and replacing it with indignation, “I couldn’t very well have asked my children to drive me! Otherwise they’d think I couldn’t take care of myself, and then they’d have me in some old folk’s home in no time!”

Dr. Ahmad shook his head as he told me this story. “There are so many like her. A lot of my older patients won’t ask for the help they need. They wait too long for treatment. They are afraid of losing their independence and being at the mercy of someone else.”

Dr. Ahmad had just offered a perfect example of the fear of surrender. Anytime we worry that we are about to lose our self-determination, independence, and control, we become victims of this riptide.

Just when we realize that something is not quite right, just as we begin to consider the possibility of asking for help, the riptide of surrender exerts its power. It seduces, like an eddy of calm water. Stepping into the sea, we believe we are safe. Then the riptide offers up a truth: Some control is good. We agree, remembering how satisfying it feels to be in control of our own lives. Then this dangerous current begins to swirl lies around us. It tells us that if some control is good, then all control must be good, and letting go of it is a terrible thing. This sounds right, so we move deeper into the sea. Then this deceitful current lies again, convincing us that asking for help will mean a loss of power. At this point, the riptide has us in its grip. We accept its lies. We believe that asking for help will surely leave us powerless and without control. And for many, the loss of power and control is just too frightening to risk or even contemplate.

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Asking for help and accepting it requires us to surrender to at least one of three scenarios. We may have to relinquish control, or step blindly into an uncertain future, or even pay a price for what we need. In all three scenarios, surrender is an essential element for successful requests for help.

In order to meet a need, we may have to relinquish control. Whenever you say to yourself, “If I ask for help, she might want to solve my problem her way,” or even, “Getting someone else to help me might mean that the job won’t be done as well as what I would like,” then you are caught in the riptide of the fear of surrender. You fear a loss of control.

Simple things like asking your spouse to fold the towels can turn into a battle of wills. If you prefer the towels folded in thirds and he likes them folded in half, then you may just have to surrender your power over the linen closet—especially if you really need the help. Everyone likes to have things done their way and if we truly need help, we may just have to relinquish our hold over such things.

Surrender may also mean stepping into an uncertain future. Referred to as the fear of the unknown, this is a misnomer. What we really fear is surrender to a future we cannot predict. If I hear myself say, “I don’t know what will happen if I ask for help and that’s what scares me,” then I know I have succumbed to the riptide of the fear of surrender.

Surrender may also demand that we submit to paying a price for the assistance we receive. The thought of asking for help and potentially surrendering to another’s price for that help can initiate terrible anxiety and fear. We may say to ourselves, “Whatever she might want in return is more than I could bear to pay.” This, of course, is the classic fear of petitioners of Mafia dons the world over. Thankfully, most of us keep our interactions with organized crime to a minimum. Still, a perfectly legal favor may have to be repaid and the price may remain unknown until the chit is called in.

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The cost of help can also be exacted in actual dollars and cents. Jamal feared asking for assistance because he thought it might lead to a loss of financial stability, something he had worked hard to acquire. He was concerned that he would lose a substantial sum of his own savings if he requested help in starting a small business. Ultimately, it’s not the loss of money he feared. What triggered his anxiety was the thought of surrendering to a new set of (self-imposed) restrictions in his personal and professional life. Jamal’s fear of surrender flashed vivid images of destitution and poverty as it attempted to convince him that going it alone was better than succumbing to the price of asking for help. The potential loss of money can be devastating to all of us, yet money itself is a means to an end. Surrendering to the consequences of not having money is what really terrifies us.

The Love of Control

The fear of surrender would have no power over us if we didn’t care about control. That desire to control ourselves, others, and circumstances makes this riptide so powerful. Without realizing it, we judge that we know better than anyone else how life should be. In reality, when we refuse to surrender, we cut ourselves off from possibilities that we cannot even begin to imagine.

We experience a misleading rush of power when (we think) we’ve made something happen, as though we were minor gods in the heavens. In our hubris we reject the idea (even though we understand this intellectually) that control is impossible. At the very most, we may be able to exert control over ourselves. Even then, self-control is often no more than a wish.

In Out of Africa, a gorgeous film (based on the book of the same name) depicts author Karen Blixen’s gradual release of control during her years spent in Kenya. Near the end of the film, Meryl Streep’s character sighs wearily after losing a battle to hold back a nearby river and prevent it from flooding her coffee plantation. “This river lives in Mbassa,” she says. “It wants to go home.” The river teaches her the futility of control. From this scene on, she accepts what she has been fighting against: the flow of life.

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Contra, the linguistic root of the word control, means “against.” When we seek to control, like Karen Blixen did, we work against what is.

I have my own lessons about control to contribute. Years ago I was diagnosed with a benign tumor that was growing too near an important nerve. Surgery was required, and I listened intently as the surgeon explained the procedure and the postoperative process. When he said that I’d be incapacitated for a week, tears filled my eyes. I wasn’t worried about the surgery. No, I knew what to expect. I was more concerned about actually having to ask someone for help.

Noticing my tears, the doctor reached out to touch my hand. “Are you okay?” he asked. I stifled a sob and cried, “Who will stay with me? I have no one to help me.”

I had worked for years to create a persona of a confident and capable professional woman. I didn’t need much from other people. Over the years it had become increasingly uncomfortable for me to rely on anyone at all. My ego stated flatly that a strong, independent woman wouldn’t find herself in this kind of situation. It was as though this tough persona of mine was just begging for a lesson in humility and surrender.

Later that day I called my then-boyfriend, Robbie, and told him I needed both surgery and his help. Notice that I didn’t ask him; I informed him I needed help. He reluctantly agreed to stay with me for a week after the operation. I heard the hesitation and reluctance in his voice, but I stubbornly focused on his agreement to be there for me.

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I should have listened more closely to what he was telling me, or rather, not telling me. Two days before the surgery, Robbie dumped me.

I had no choice. I was forced to call upon those my ego swore I would never rely upon again: my parents.

Don’t get me wrong, my relationship with my folks was good, but I was still seduced by my independent self-image. My ego voice whispered that giving in to their care would erase all the hard work I had done in creating such an impressively independent (albeit lonesome) life. I hated the thought of asking because, in a very real way, it meant I couldn’t handle my life by myself. Accepting help wasn’t easy either. It drove me mad to think that I would have to surrender to my parents’ care after all these years.

I am heartily ashamed to say that I was blatantly ungracious as I made the call to my mother. First, I sobbed about my breakup and then I asked her if she would care for me. She agreed immediately, but my fear of surrender wouldn’t allow me to end the call with an appreciative and grateful tone. Instead, I warned her, “I don’t want you and dad fussing over me! I am not a child, and I don’t expect to be treated like one!”

That’s exactly what I was, of course; a frightened, ungrateful child. In my feeble and awkward way, I was still trying to control the situation. The lesson didn’t hit home until I woke at 2:00 AM to find my mother sleeping in the hospital room. I was deeply touched by the sight of her, curled uncomfortably in a chair. Unable to move or speak, with no strength to control anything, I realized I had no choice but to let go. I no longer cared about being successful or independent. I just wanted my mom.

I had surrendered.

The deceitful riptide of the fear of surrender lies to us. It creates an environment of trifling fear within our minds. It convinces us that asking for help will lead to a relinquishing of personal power while forcing us to give in to the will of others. All the lies we tell ourselves about lack of control keep us from the hidden truth: Surrender is a blessing.

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What if instead of exerting control, we just let go? What if we accepted the very thing our egos tell us to fear? What if we embraced surrender?

Embracing Surrender

None of the things I feared transpired. In fact, asking for help led me to a more profound and emotionally intimate relationship with my parents. In my arrogance I had assumed I knew how my story would end—as though I could predict the future. There would be fussing, petty power struggles, and general aggravation for an entire week, and my relationship with my parents, so carefully crafted over the past few years, would change . . . for the worse. At the time I didn’t realize that my concerns were trifles—unsubstantial and mostly imagined.

I did indeed heal under my parents’ care and I internalized profound lessons about humility and dependency. My parents found new purpose in life, if only for a week, and once again experienced the satisfaction of caring for one of their own. It may be no surprise to anyone else that the bond we had always felt, parent to child, actually deepened. What astonished me even more was that the connection we had as adults changed for the better.

During that week of convalescence, Bill, Elaine, and Nora all had a chance to see each other at their best and their worst. My beloved independence hadn’t disappeared at all; it was there in a much healthier form. My parents did indeed respect me. And had I not asked for their help, I would never have experienced my mother slipping her hand into mine as we walked bravely into the hospital that gray morning, nor would I have laughed with my father as he threatened to draw smiley faces on my bandages.

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These memories will last a lifetime, and I would not trade them now for all the control in the world.

In his best-selling book The Power of Now, Eckhart Tolle writes that “surrender is the profound wisdom of yielding to rather than opposing the flow of life.” (The italics are Tolle’s.) Surrender is not about giving up or giving in. Tolle adds, “It is to relinquish inner resistance to what is.”

Surrender doesn’t have to be just about failure and loss. Those defeatist images have nothing to do with asking for help, a positive and loving act of self-respect and self-worth. Instead, think of surrender as a letting-go of your preconceptions about how things should be. Surrendering opens us to unseen possibilities that cannot possibly exist while we struggle against what is. My relationship with my parents probably would have remained the same as long as I continued to resist the truth of what was: Namely, that I had a need, and I could not control how it would be satisfied.

TRY THIS THE RIPTIDE OF SURRENDER

How has the riptide of fear or surrender shown up in your life? Ask yourself the following questions.

• Think of a time when you were worried that you might lose some of your independence if you asked for help. What were the circumstances then? Did you ask anyway?
• Describe a situation where you would have paid any price or met any requirement in order to receive help. What did you need? What kind of help did you receive? What was the cost to you?
• When have you been glad to surrender to the care of another person? What did you learn from that experience?

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The flip side of this, of course, is that you could continue to seek control. John O’Donohue, author of Anam Cara, A Book of Celtic Wisdom, writes, “It is startling that we desperately hold on to what makes us miserable . . . We do not want to be cured, for that would mean moving into the unknown.”

Surprise parties, sneezes, orgasms, a great night’s sleep, laughter, and relaxing body massages are all gifts that only come when we let go and surrender. These simple and welcome blessings only hint at what’s possible when we pull ourselves from the undertow caused by the fear of surrender.

The Second Riptide: The Fear of Separation

James’s hands were shaking. Head down, he seemed very different from the man I had coached two weeks earlier.

Then we had celebrated his new job with a marketing firm. All the fears James had held about selling his small business and going back to work for someone else seemed to have faded away as soon as he was hired. James was sure that with this new job he’d be able to pay his debts, including child support for his daughter, Marie.

Unfortunately the buyer of his business had subsequently decided against purchasing two major pieces of equipment, machines on which James was still making payments. They would have to be sold immediately. James figured that one day off each week for three consecutive weeks would give him enough time to sell the equipment. If not, James was at serious risk of missing loan payments. He was not at all sure he wanted to ask his new boss for such a big favor. What if he was fired from this new job? He was terrified by the fear of separation.

What is the lie spewed by this riptide? Like always, the deceptive current entices us with what we believe is truth: Not only are we born alone, we die alone. This seems to make sense to us, so we move deeper into the current as we continue to listen. Then the riptide snags us with the lie: If we are alone at the start and the end, then we must be alone in the in-between time, too.

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We all want to be seen as part of something larger than ourselves, as a member of a team, a tribe, a society, a couple, a family. Within the group, we receive affirmation of our talents, skills, and gifts. We see our own value reflected in those around us. If we are cast out, we feel the abandonment profoundly. Indeed, banishment, or separation from the tribe, is so terrifying to us as humans that it has been, throughout history, a common alternative punishment to execution for capital crimes. Without the group, we have no one but ourselves.

In our ego-minds, the fear of separation convinces us that we are alone . . . very much alone. Any kind of division from those we’ve gathered around us, including family, friends, co-workers, and even complete strangers, seems to confirm this awful “truth.”

Ask people why they don’t ask for help, and the first answer is usually, “What if they say no? I might be rejected!” This fear of rejection is one manifestation of the fear of separation. As we consider asking for aid, each of us knows that our request may be refused or that we may be dismissed outright—an obvious rejection, to be sure. The ego translates this as not only a refusal of our need but a denunciation of ourselves and a denial that we are worthy of help. Of course, the rejection might have nothing to do with us at all, but the ego isn’t likely to believe that. In our need and worry, we interpret rejection to mean, “You are on your own.” In our fear, we silently add, “. . . once again.”

James feared basic rejection, but he also had other concerns. In our session, he recounted the messages that his fear of separation was sending him: “You’re alone in this, buddy. You are going to get yourself fired. You’re not going to be able to pay your debts. You won’t be able to see your daughter again. No one is going to want to help you.”

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Poor guy—no wonder his hands were shaking! He was catastrophizing the situation, listening only to his fear, imagining the worst-case scenario. His initial terror at facing this problem alone (fear of separation) led to a greater desire to control the situation (fear of surrender).

You Are Not Alone

The hidden truth that this deceptive riptide, the fear of separation, doesn’t want you to know is that you are not alone. James was not alone, and neither are the rest of us.

Those who possess a spiritual outlook speak of the connectedness of all things. Many of the major religions contain a central belief in the constant presence of a supreme being who watches over all his/her creations. Others believe that we are all linked, one in the same, a small part in an all-encompassing system of energy. Still others embrace the comforting images of guardian angels and fairy godmothers who come to our aid, often to save us from ourselves. These are not just reassuring images for children at bedtime; they are archetypes that remind us, as adults, that we will always be cared for.

TRY THIS DISPROVING THE FEAR OF SEPARATION

Try these suggestions for defeating the fear of separation and to confirm that you are not alone.

• If you believe in the here and now, formulate a hypothesis such as: “I am not alone.” Then test it: Ask, and ask until you have enough evidence to support or deny your hypothesis.
• Search the Internet. We can find proof that we are not alone simply by conducting an online search for others who share our troubles.
• Call a meeting. Lay out your problem or concern in front of a group of trusted colleagues or friends. Most will come to your aid in some way if you only ask.
• Review your history. Create a major-events inventory, listing key accomplishments in your life: making the team, graduation, getting a job. Next to each, list the names of those people who helped you succeed.
• Watch for synchronicity in your life: Synchronicity is a coming-together of seemingly disparate events in a way that appears planned. I once suggested that a client might want to keep a journal to capture his thoughts during a time of great frustration. He rejected the idea, but that same night, he went for a walk in an unfamiliar part of town. Turning down a street lined with shops, he noticed that a small bookstore was the only shop open. The display at the entrance was a collection of blank journals! He ended up purchasing a journal, almost ready to believe that someone or something was looking out for him.

The notion that there are angels and fairy godmothers, let alone actual deities who care one iota for the troubles of humankind, may be hard for some to stomach. For those people, evidence is required to prove that they are not alone.

Sadly, for those bound by fear, the presence of God or human friendship often seems very far away. In these times it may be best to take a deep breath and that well-worn, frightening leap of faith. We will take time to explore that courageous act in a later chapter.

Those who refuse their fears and ask for assistance are relieved and often surprised to find that others are willing to help. This is, in fact, what happened in James’s situation.

In preparing for the conversation with his boss, James made deliberate choices about the kind of language he wanted to use, as well as the mood he wanted to carry with him into the meeting. He was determined to come across as confident, respectful, and optimistic.

He began his conversation with his boss this way: “I need your help. An unexpected situation has come up, and I thought that you and I could brainstorm some ways in which I might be able to deal with the problem. Would you be willing to help me out here?”

Notice that James didn’t come in assuming he knew the answer that would solve his problem. He didn’t ask for time off right away. Instead he chose to remain unattached to the outcome. That way he was able to stay open to new ways to solve his dilemma.

To James’s great relief, his boss was very interested in helping him. Immediately James felt less alone.

He then went on to explain the problem. After a pause, James added that he could only come up with one option, which was to request some time off, but he thought that together they might be able to come up with a better alternative. After running through various scenarios, the two men decided that time off was the best, though perhaps not the most desirable, option in the situation.

It would be great to be able to say that James’s boss was overjoyed to give him the time off, but it didn’t happen that way. In fact, he was very unhappy with the situation, but he thought that James had handled it professionally and honestly. James had understood his boss’s difficulties. As is often the case in work settings, an exchange was agreed upon. James received the time off, but only after committing to work on Saturdays to compensate.

James walked away from the conversation with a reaffirmation that he was no longer alone, that he had made the right choice in accepting this job. He deeply appreciated the sacrifice his boss was making for him, and he gained renewed confidence in his own value to the company. Interestingly, the agreement reinforced his membership within the team, since he soon discovered that many of his co-workers could also be found working in the office on Saturdays.

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A precedent was set in James’s relationship with his boss. Boss and employee began to understand that they could work through most issues together, which served as the beginning of a business relationship that changed over time to one based in friendship and trust. James might never have discovered this had he not asked for the help he needed.

Asking for help is often the very last thing we want to do, yet it is just as often the very first step we should take. Denying our need because of the lies spread by the fear of separation only keeps us farther away from the circle of friendship and community.

TRY THIS THE FEAR OF SEPARATION

The second riptide, the fear of separation, affects us all. At some level, we fear being alone. Answer the following questions to get an idea how this riptide manifests in your life.

• With whom are you most comfortable asking for help? What is it about your relationship that makes it easier for you to ask?
• What relationship(s) would you hate to lose most? Would your relationship(s) withstand a mayday cry from you? Why or why not?
• Think of a time when you needed help and help came your way. How did that situation prove to you that you were not alone?

The Third Riptide: The Fear of Shame

By now the dreadful riptides of surrender and separation probably sound familiar to you. You may even be able to feel the residue of their deceptions in your life as you recall the times you attempted to make your own requests. There is one more riptide to explore: the fear of shame.

Public shame is a penalty most of us are unwilling to tolerate. We’ve come a long way from locking scofflaws in the village stocks, but the threat of public humiliation is still with us. It rises up when our dark sides are on view for all to see.

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Sometimes referred to as the fear of the shadow or of the dark side, this fear is based on more of Carl Jung’s work. He described the shadow as being that part of ourselves we strive to keep hidden. In our shame, he explains, we hide the dark parts of ourselves that have been rejected for lack of love. Jung’s central point was that “the shadow is the person you would rather not be.”

The fear of shame convinces us that we are not worthy. It co-opts the truth that we are flawed and then persuades us that the flaw must forever remain hidden. If the “truth” gets out, you will, without a doubt, be mortified and publicly shamed. Indeed, we work hard to hide our shadows, those habits, behaviors, viewpoints, and idiosyncrasies that we’ve decided would seem reprehensible to others. We expend tremendous energy denying what is, hiding it even from ourselves. The last thing we want to do is to reveal our weaknesses to others by asking for help. For some, this is tantamount to professional or social suicide!

The fear of shame can also lead to a different kind of self-sabotage, the deadly kind. In South Africa, where AIDS has infected 20% of its adult population, the shame is too much to bear. In an article written for the November 26, 2006 Chicago Tribune, Laurie Goering writes about the epidemic, “the disease remains such a mark of shame that many people prefer to die rather than seek treatment.” Such is the power of this fear. Even when faced with death, metus gravis, some would prefer to pretend that help is not required.

Debbie Ford, author of The Dark Side of the Light Chasers, writes that the shadow “contains those dark aspects that we believe are not acceptable to our family, friends, and most importantly, ourselves . . . The message we get from this is simple: there is something wrong with me.” That can be a very good thing.

As Jung did before her, Ford believes these dark aspects are opportunities to grow and learn. Instead of being ignored or repressed, they should be acknowledged, examined, accepted, and, most important, owned. By owning these shameful secrets we set ourselves free and enable new possibilities to enter our lives—especially the possibility of asking for help.

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The Shame of Neediness

Each of us is ashamed of different aspects of our lives. Being seen as needy, in particular, is something that we avoid at all costs. When we reveal neediness, the dirty, dark corners of our psyche come into high relief. Dripping with neediness, our mayday signals are easily noticed—and as easily rejected—by potential helpmates. In an effort to disguise our neediness, we might become demanding, like I did when I told my boyfriend that I needed him to stay with me during my convalescence. More so than men, women fear being seen as needy. Being needy is viewed as the kiss of death to most romantic relationships, and single women work doubly hard to steer clear of the label.

Melanie is needy. Everyone sees it but her. An hour before her best friend’s wedding, she asked Olivia, the bride-to-be, to stop getting dressed and help her instead. Years later, when Olivia was waiting for news about her beloved husband’s cancer diagnosis, Melanie called the house over and over again, in effect keeping the phone line tied up. And when she learned that Olivia’s husband had passed away, Melanie monopolized her time during the funeral visitation. Her focus ostensibly was on Olivia, but Melanie’s inappropriate requests for help and support proved that it was really all about her.

With behavior like this, Melanie was labeled high maintenance by her friends and by the men she chose to date. Overly dependent, controlling, and desperate, Melanie had a hard time keeping any kind of romantic relationship alive. Melanie would have been embarrassed to know that others saw her as just too much trouble. Possessiveness, demanding, clinginess, and self-involvement all are qualities of needy people and Melanie had these in abundance.

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“Neediness is created when perfectly sane and normal people do not get their needs met.” So writes John Gray, author of Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus. There is no getting around it. If you are human, you have needs, and you have the potential to become needy. Gray suggests that one reason we become controlling is because we have not properly expressed what it is we need. We have not asked for what we need.

At some point in our lives, we experience a gap between our current existence and what could be—a need. Over time, needs that go unexpressed and unanswered can mutate into unflattering and unattractive neediness.

Gillian’s Story

Gillian had created a wonderful life for herself. A graduate of a prestigious university, she was now the proud proprietor of a small yet very successful business in the heart of London, England. She had married her high school sweetheart and was the mother of two rambunctious young boys.

Gillian seemed to have the perfect life . . . on the surface. Sadly, her husband, a charming and brilliant man, was plagued by a recurring illness that forced Gillian to take the lead in many family decisions. During one particularly difficult period, Gillian’s husband was hospitalized for treatment, leaving her to run the house, handle the kids, pay the bills, manage the business alone, and worry about and care for her husband. If ever there was a person who needed help, it was Gillian. It wasn’t until she found herself weeping uncontrollably at a neighbor’s house one night that she finally admitted she needed help.

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We all go through periods like this, but what interested me about Gillian’s story was that her neighbor, Cheryl, a woman she’d known for years, came right out and asked why she had never called for help.

Gillian’s response was typical and very stiff-upper-lip British: “I was so ashamed. I should have been able to handle it.”

In response, Cheryl simply took Gillian’s hand and told her, “Don’t worry, I am going to help you.”

Their friendship, which began based on the proximity of their houses, blossomed through the new closeness in their hearts. Cheryl had always been there for Gillian, she just never knew help was needed. You might be surprised by how much help is yours for the asking. What you receive in return is of more value than the fragile ego you protect by remaining quiet.

You Are Worthy

Gillian’s shadow was not so terrible, of course, though she thought it was. No matter who we are, we are worthy of the help we seek. This is the hidden truth that the fear of shame keeps from us.

Many years ago I coached a woman who believed she was not deserving of help. Nearing retirement, Jenna still had many people who relied on her, yet she refused to depend on anyone else. I thought, perhaps, that she, a devout Christian, would seek help from God. I asked her how she prayed. She told me that she always prayed for others but never for herself. “I’m not starving, I am not living on the street. God has others He should be caring for instead of me.”

Who are we to decide whom God should help? Who are we to decide that our problems are undeserving of help? Worthiness is not based on how difficult life is. Worthiness is not a test used to determine whether or not you should be cared for. Your needs warrant resolution. You deserve to ask for the help you need.

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TRY THIS THE FEAR OF SHAME

Your answers to the following questions will help you understand your own fears of shame.

• Make a list of those behaviors, habits, or unflattering qualities that you keep hidden from others.
• How has the fear of shame interfered with your relationships in the past? How has it limited your relationships at home or at work?
• If someone agrees to your request for help, what is the worst-case scenario if they happen to observe your shadow? What is the best-case scenario?

The Riptide Matrix summarizes the fears that keep us from connecting, from learning and growing, from asking for the help we deserve.

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THE RIPTIDE MATRIX

	The Riptide of Surrender	The Riptide of Separation	The Riptide of Shame
The Lie	All control is good and the loss of control is very bad.	You have always been alone and you are alone now.	You are flawed. You must never let anyone see your flaws or they will be repulsed by you.
Related Concerns	Loss of independence Concern over the price tag for help Fear of the unknown Loss of control over how things are done Loss of financial security	Risk of losing one's job Banishment from the family or community Fear of rejection	Concern over revealing one's weaknesses Feeling unworthy or undeserving
The Truth Behind the Fear	Control is impossible and surrender can be glorious.	You are not alone.	You are worthy of help.

Lost in fear and weak with need, we lose sight of the shore. Smothered by the riptides, we swallow the lies told by fear. The three riptides desperately want to convince you that loss of control is a bad thing, that you will be separated from those you love, and that you will experience excruciating shame—all because you asked for help. Yet these are trivial, trifling fears, out of proportion to the facts of the situation. Yet we allow ourselves to be swallowed up by the fear, tossed and turned in the wake of a deceptive riptide.

It doesn’t have to be that way. You have the choice to see the truth: Surrender is a blessing, you are not alone, and you are worthy of your requests.