When Jesse and I bought our house, it needed work. Lots of it. There were layers upon layers of wallpaper in every room on every wall and ceiling. Until I got pregnant and school started, we scraped that wallpaper and painted the rooms ourselves. We stood on scaffold in the middle of July in a house with no air conditioning painting every single detail of our dining room ceiling. We spent hours spraying and scraping, spraying and scraping. Our family and friends all offered to help, but it was very rare Jesse and I ever asked for it.
When it moved, it was the same. We did as much as possible on our own.
That's just how we are. We're both fiercely independent and a little bit private.
Until now.
Now, help from others is the boat keeping us afloat.
It is a humbling experience to have to accept help from so many people. Usually, if someone says, "Here, take this..." I'd politely say, "No thank you." Now I have to accept it. Whether it's a $100 bill or a bag of used baby clothes, I don't have the right or the privilege to say no. And it is driving me crazy. I'm not used to the pity. And it isn't a feeling I want to get used to.
No comments:
Post a Comment