belittling

Not wanting to ask for help

Not wanting to ask for help

May 4, 2020
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Like a constant hum in the background, the insistence on not wanting to ask for help. I hear it from many, most even. It’s uncomfortable, it feels scary, in part perhaps due to thoughts about belittling oneself by asking? Or is it more to do with not knowing that the answer will be favorable, and from fear of the unknown, the uncontrollable, it’s easier to simply bore down into whatever it is and try to manage by yourself, instead of putting yourself through the risk of being turned down?

One of the interesting facts about help – almost no-one claims to like asking for help, but most everyone loves to help. So the generous thing is to ask for help, when appropriate, giving others an opportunity to step in and help.

For me, asking for help is something I’ve gotten quite good at, in large part due to the fact that since childhood I have a friend who’s a great helper, and at the same time, someone who would never say that she can help if she cannot. So I know, upon asking, that if she says Yes, it’s unequivocal, and if she says No, it’s because she cannot. Making it very easy for me to ask, as I know she takes full responsibility for answering truthfully. And when there’s a No, it’s not because she doesn’t like me, or thinks I am silly to ask, or… you know, all those dead-ends the mind has a habit of detouring into now and again.

But is there a difference between asking for Help versus asking for Assistance? Or is that difference purely semantic? And, equally important to ponder, is there a difference between Helping versus Assisting?


#tankespjärn, for those who wish to discover. More. Other. New.
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I do now.

March 20, 2020
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When I think back and – gently – lay my eyes on Helena of the past, I can see the strain. The harsh inner dialogue. The insecurity, the lack of self-honoring, the constant belittling of myself. Not thinking I was good enough, never ever good enough. Knowing, somehow, that I’ve lots to give (as we all do), but not knowing what, not knowing how (to birth it), not being in touch with it.

I do now.

My inner dialogue has changed completely. I am gentle with myself today, gentle with an edge. #Tankespjärn provides that edge. (And it’s along the edges the magic happens.) Having learned to do #tankespjärn, to humbly receive it, to generously gift it to those who are interested, I have had such a pivotal shift in life, from being the most negative person I’ve ever encountered… into something completely different. Perhaps not the most positive person alive, but heck, I sure do have a hard time staying pissed, annoyed, angry, for longer periods. And most often, I am in full acceptance of what is, instead of wasting my energy on refusing to accept what is.

From this point of acceptance, I can create. Freely.
Reshape what is, into what it can and wants to become.

#tankespjärn is the essence of this pivotal shift of my life, which has me Live today, not simply go through the motion. That’s why I want to share it, with anyone who wants to receive it.

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How to relate to limits?

April 20, 2019
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How to relate to limits? My limits.
The boundaries that serve me versus the ones that stop my personal expansion as a human being.

A recent meeting that blew me out of the water, making me shatter my self-made box of limiting stories and beliefs. Writing about it. In that way that I write. Zoomed out and in at the same time, strangely impersonal yet enormously naked. I think? That’s how it feels to me. And that’s what matters, because, honestly, I have no idea what you pick up on, or not, how you react, or not. My style of writing is my style of writing.

So. Writing about it. Because that’s how I make sense of the world, of my world, how I learn and explore within myself. And yet. As I write, about this recent encounter, that has opened a new door to my universe, I cannot help but wonder… dare I? Dare I not dare?

To share or not to share, that is the question.

I’ve quite a few texts written that I’ve yet to share. Perhaps I will, perhaps I won’t.

Will these texts I am currently writing move in with these unpublished texts, or join the world in full view, with the rest of my 2000+ blog posts?

And no. I am not one to believe that I have to share everything. With everyone. Not anymore… I did. For a period around the turn of the millennia, that’s just what I did.

And at the same time, I find vulnerability in sharing what it’s like to be a human being in this day and age, is something I am drawn to. Regardless if I’m the one doing the sharing, or you.

What I’ve come to know is that when I share something completely raw to me, it’s not a good idea to share publicly. With close friends absolutely, friends whom I know will not sympathize but empathize. Once healing is underway and I’ve got a healthy distance to whatever caused my wound, my sharing might be of great help for others, besides for me. Because when my wounds are not open, raw and causing me acute pain, others do not have to manage me and my current state, but rather, can focus on what my sharing opened within themselves.

Yet. It’s as if I’ve yet to arrive, at whatever/where ever I am approaching. So I pause my writing and check my Facebook feed. Stumble across a post, on leaky boundaries vs clear ones. Baaam! Scroll at bit more, and come across yet another post, on baring ones’ soul while being a vessel for creativity. Putting oneself out there, to public display, not giving a hoot about the expectations of others. Swop tabs to LinkedIn, and slam dunk, post number three on being honest with what I feel and need, as opposed to interpretations and judgments, is right there in front of me.

Synchronicity in the making.
But what’s the message? Really, what am I being told here?

To share? To not share?

Somewhere… there’s still a nagging doubt within.
If I pick at it just a little, pick at the doubt, what I find behind it, is fear.
Fear of what a few select people might say or think.

So I pick at that just a little, pick at the fear, and what I find behind it… is…?

Me.
Belittling myself as well as those few select ones.

Now… how or who is that serving?

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Hiding in the shadows

November 12, 2018
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A part of me.
Sometimes.
Hiding in the shadow.
Holding back. Not showing myself, fully.
Hiding bits and parts of me.
From others. And from myself?hiding in shadows

“Last edited by Helena Roth on March 16, 2016.” means this post and the accompanying photo has been sitting as a draft for two and a half years.

Was I hiding? Yes. Most definitely. From myself as well as from others.
Six months later I separated from my then husband, and two years later the divorce was final.

Am I still hiding? Lurking in the shadows?

Yeah.
But way less.
First and foremost I am no longer hiding (as much) from myself.

Am on a quest to own this, to own me (!), fully. I want to decide, consciously, what I show of myself and when I show it. No more letting old conditioning – others voices internalized within, carrying messages of shame, of belittling, of “don’t think you are worth anything” – to be in charge.

Not any more.
No.

Saying Yes instead.
To me.

Here I am.
As I am.

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