Admit.

After a conversation yesterday with my life coach, Krysta, I had a serious thought session inside of an MRI machine.

Perhaps I should back up and explain myself.

I asked her opinion on whether or not I should ask the fiance' to go to the hospital with me for this test. Her best friend had one recently and had brought her husband, and I was looking for some insight. Her answer made me think. She said that Jen had appreciated her husband being there, that knowing he was outside waiting for her had helped her remain calm. She said, besides that, "sometimes it is good to let them know that you need them." I thought about the enormity of this thought. It is hard for me to let anyone know that I need them. I go through life like so many people protesting my need of anyone to survive or enjoy life. I thought of the small ways in which I refuse to concede, even now. The times I will bang jars against the counter top and pull on their lids until my hands turn bright red before asking for him to open them. The times I get a chair from another room and carry it to my closet to reach the top shelf rather than asking for assistance.

But these are small matters.

What is more important are the matters of the soul that I refuse to ask for assistance with. We have had these conversations before, and I am certain we will again.
"Why don't you talk to me about it?"
Well why don't I? Because I want to figure it out on my own? It is hard to explain but each time I acknowledge my inability to do something without assistance, I feel as though I am losing a little bit of my self. I suppose it all boils down to the mantras of the single girl: yes I can, yes I will!
You feel that if you get used to the help of a guy, and rely on him, and someday he is gone, it will be hard to accept. You will feel inadequate. And being a kick-ass female is all about protesting your adequacy loudly and proudly day after day!
Why? Because I can! I will!
So here I am, contemplating my inadequacy to ask for help when I truly want and need it, while inside of a white plastic mask, under a sheet, locked into a tunnel of excruciating noise. My eyes start to tear up and my brain screams, "let me out of here!" but suddenly falls calm as I realize that when my 15 minutes is up, I will be let out, and he will be waiting for me. And he was.