Don't Be A Cyrano (even though he's amazing)

Struggles are an interesting thing.  When it's something minor, I'm usually willing to whine about it to the entire world.  When I'm struggling with something that occupies the majority of my thoughts and causes me to break down in crying fits from time to time, I keep that struggle hidden and I'm not willing to ask for help when I really need it the most.

For example, when I have a headache or my muscles are sore or my insides are threatening to burst in righteous anger I'll mention it to The Man every two seconds (give or take).  Usually the struggle is due to a stupid decision I made, like staring at the computer screen for too long, taking too many rest days between workouts, or eating an entire pan of brownies when I know that my insides can barely handle the sugar in a single cup of juice before they start protesting.  I know that I was stupid, and I whine both about my stupidity and about the consequences that I have to deal with.  I'm also not shy about asking to be held or coddled or reassured that it's perfectly okay for me to spend the entire day lying on the couch moaning.

It's only when the situation is out of my hands that I clam up.  I can admit to being stupid; that's easy.  I can whine about a tummy ache because it's not personal and it doesn't make me feel like something is wrong with me.  I can ask for help when I step on a Lego because I can say something simple like, "hey, I stepped on a Lego, I'm in pain.  Please comfort me."  It's a little more complicated to say something like, "hey, I would love to be growing my family right now but we tried for a year and nothing happened and I feel like I'm broken and it's quite painful sometimes to see the people I love having babies and getting excited about their new lives as parents because it's something that just doesn't seem to be in the cards for us right now so I try to act like I really don't want kids and I make jokes about wanting to stay skinny or loving my sleep but really truly honestly deep down inside I'm breaking a little bit."

Why is that?  Why is it that at our greatest moments of need, so many of us turn inward instead of turning outward and admitting that, yes, we actually are hurting?  Is it because we're afraid of that look of pity we'll get from others?  Is it because we're afraid to admit that we have insecurities and struggles just like everybody else?  Or is it simply because we have no idea how anybody else could help us out of our current struggle?

I think I've kind of romanticized holding in my pain a bit.  I think of it as an act of courage or strength.  I'm strong because the world can't see that I'm actually weak at times.  What I'm starting to realize is, maybe I've got it backwards.  I recently had a friend admit a very personal and painful struggle to me, and it didn't make me think less of him at all; it deepened my respect.  Maybe it's time that we stop holding it in, and we ask others for their acceptance, their love, and their prayers.  The people who love us want us to be happy, and they have no way to help us get there if they have no idea that we're struggling.

Today's challenge: if you're struggling with something, let someone know.  Perhaps they can be your "sponsor," giving you a shoulder to cry on the super hard days.  Perhaps they'll be able to give you a message of hope, or point you down a path you didn't even know was available to you.  Know that you do not have to go through your struggles alone.  You are loved.  People want to be there for you.  Let them.