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mental health bannerLast time we talked about mental health I wrote about my suggestions for staying on top of things, and I hope that information was useful. The problem that a lot of us (read:Ā  ALL OF US) run into is that sometimes, in spite of our most valiant efforts, we just can’t keep our shit together. And that’s ok.

Let me say it again – it’s totally ok if you can’t keep your shit together provided you let someone know you need help.

That’s the trick, kids – knowing when to admit temporary defeat and call for reinforcements. None of us is always strong enough to do this shit all on our own, and anyone who says they are is beyond full of it. We all have times when we need help.

There is no shame in asking for help when you need it, not one fucking bit.

Ask your folks if you’re on good terms with them, ask your extended family, your spouse or partner, your girlfriends, your bros, your boss, your clergy person or other spiritual guide, your therapist, your shrink, the dude who bags your groceries if you’re tight with him – just ask somebody.

birds of a featherI’ll let you in on a secret – even the “normal” people need help sometimes. We will all experience feeling overwhelmed, or unprepared to handle a situation, or just entirely out of our element at some point in our lives. And that’s ok, 100% ok. In life it’s really not what you know, it’s whether or not you know how to find what you need.

Here’s where Mama makes a confession – I HATE asking for help.

I would rather pop my own eyes out with a rusty spoon than admit that I need someone to help me. No lie. I have this ridiculous notion that I should be able to do every single thing that’s asked of me, plus all the stuff that needs to be done for my care, plus anything else I can think of – All. By. Myself.

different devilsSo I’m working on it. I was having some difficulties recently and realized that I had a choice. I could continue keeping everything locked inside and not ask for help which would likely result in a trip to the mental ward, or I could suck up my pride and tell the people who could help that I needed them and keep my happy little ass free of the padded rooms.

I hated it, utterly fucking hated needing to ask for help, but I’m really glad I did.

falling apart