How to ask for stuff
This week’s question comes to us from Jason:
I was raised by a couple of very passive people. Because of this, I am deeply uncomfortable asking for things. So how can I get better at asking for the stuff that I want and/or need?
First off, asking for what you need is hard. Secondly, none of us were born this way.
Babies ask for things like it’s nobody’s business. Which is good, because as babies we’re stupidly helpless. We can’t dress ourselves. We can’t feed ourselves. We can’t wipe our own bottoms. So we have to ask. We’re also dumb enough that we can’t tell people what we need, nor are we really sure what kind of help we need at the time. We cry and someone decides we’re hungry. We cry and someone decides our ass is caked in baby shit. (To be fair, the latter is easier to figure out.) And, as babies, we’re all pretty lucky that at some point someone was willing to help us with those things. Otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this right now.
So at some point, at least for a little while, we were both willing to say we needed help, and lucky enough to get it.
The problem comes when people decide a couple of things: one, you’re past the age where you should need help; and two, they’ve defined what kind of help they were willing to give you.
I’ll tell you an embarrassing story. When I started first grade I couldn’t tie my shoes yet. I didn’t know this was a problem (it wasn’t, kids learn shit at different speeds) until my parents made it very clear to me that it was a problem. They went from gladly tying my shoes, to begrudgingly tying my shoes, to telling me I was an idiot for not knowing how to tie my shoes, to slapping me for still needing help for tying my shoes.
After school I’d sit on the edge of my bed practicing my shoe tying, not so much because I wanted to learn how to tie my shoes, but because I didn’t want to get hit anymore.
My parents, the first people I trusted and relied on, taught me that asking for help had a cost. They taught me that asking for help was a sign of weakness. They taught me that vulnerability was a flaw to be mocked.
Human beings are born willing to ask for help. We’re taught not to.
When you say you’re uncomfortable asking for things, that discomfort isn’t a sign that you’re genetically predisposed to not asking for things. That discomfort comes from scar tissue.
As I grew up and met other people, I brought this with me into the world. If a friend told me they needed help with their homework—even if I ultimately ended up helping them—I had to tell them they were an idiot first. If someone ahead of me in line was taking longer than I thought they had a right to, I’d make sure to roll my eyes and utter a snide remark under my breath for them to hear. This was my mental model for how to deal with people needing help. These people were weak.
I also grew up to become someone who didn’t think they needed help. (After all, I didn’t want to get hit anymore!) And while there are moments when this can be seen in a positive light and called things like self-reliance (Erika can attest to the fact that I can get a full-sized fridge up a flight of stairs by myself.) it also leads you to doing some very stupid things! (Like getting a full-sized fridge up the stairs by yourself.)
As someone who wrestles with mental health, as many of us do, I learned the hard way that there are only so many full-sized fridges you can move up a flight of stairs by yourself. (See, it was a handy metaphor.) I had to wrestle with everything I’d been taught as a child. All the taunts. All the abuse. All the untied shoes. I had to break every safety rule I’d made for myself as a child and admit that I needed help. It took longer than it should have because ultimately I needed to trust the people in my life, which meant trusting that they saw the world differently than the people who raised me. And while, logically, I knew that was true, trauma has a way of making previous trauma our default place.
There is no more courageous act than asking another human being for help.
There is no more courageous act than telling another human what you need.
To get better at asking for what you need you need to trust the people around you. And the first part of trusting the people around you is trusting yourself. Trust that you’re the kind of person that other good people gravitate towards. Become the kind of person that other good people gravitate towards. (Here’s a little cheat: shitty people wouldn’t ask me the question you asked.) Be your own billboard for kindness. Especially with everything going on right now. Let people know that you are there for them, and I guarantee that they will be there for you. I’m guessing that you would tell me you are there for your friends should they need you. Trust that they would say the same thing.
Also, when we’re willing to ask for help we’re letting people know that they can ask us for help as well. You’re establishing it as a new norm. A new habit. Which can take the place of the old painful habits we both grew up with. My daughter also had a little trouble learning how to tie her shoes. We got her Vans slip-ons. And yes, she eventually learned how to tie her shoes. As all kids do. In her own time, and with none of the trauma.
Where there is trauma, we plant flowers.
Finally, be clear in what you need. “I need a hammer” is much more likely to get you a hammer than “I need something to pound this nail into the wall” which might get you a shoe. “I need 30 minutes of your time on Saturday to move a full-size fridge up a flight of stairs” is more likely to get you a yes than “I need a huge favor.” (It might also get you “I can’t on Saturday. How about Sunday?” which is amazing.) Think of clarity as a kindness that we do to others. We’re not making them do the unpaid labor of trying to figure out what we need. We’re telling them. Being raised by passive people that might sound incredibly forward. Aggressive, even. It’s not. Trying to figure out what you need, when you’re being vague about it, is exhausting.
If you’re living right, and surrounding yourself with people who are there for you, as you are for them, they want that clarity.
And of course, after someone helps you—donuts!
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