By Emily Viverette

I come from a long line of strong Southern women. Think Steel Magnolias. My grandmother was one of the backbones of our little Baptist church. My mother followed right in her footsteps. I learned early the importance of taking care of others. As an eldest child, I had three younger sisters to look after and boss around.

Our town was small enough that poverty wasn’t hidden. A public school teacher, my mother let us know our duty to live responsibly with our privilege. We weren’t rich, but we had more than most. We cleaned out our closets for her students who needed coats and other clothes. We took children from different neighborhoods to church. Our church made sure all its children and youth were involved in mission work in our backyard. Yes, helping others was a vital teaching in my childhood—one that I continue to appreciate today and hope to instill in my own children.

But it was also a teaching I learned a little too well. In all the attention to helping others, I never learned the importance of asking for help. I never knew it was okay to ask. In fact, I worked hard not to need help. I followed the rules. Studied hard. Made good grades. Worked not to need too much attention. I was the one who tutored others; not the one who needed tutoring. And I always helped when asked. In college, I became the lead coordinator for all the volunteer programs on campus. I really liked being the helper and really liked being needed. Secretly, I liked not feeling “needy” and dependent. Looking back, I realize I liked feeling as if I were the one in control.

Being human

In my early adulthood, a series of events including a painful relationship, some poor decisions and my father’s diagnosis of cancer, pierced through every illusion of control I had in my life. I found myself depressed, anxious, lonely and desperately in need of help. My fear and pride and control needs had kept me from asking for help for far too long. I had surrounded myself with an almost impenetrable wall of self-sufficiency, so much so that few people knew how desperate I was.

By the grace of God (I can’t explain it any other way), I swallowed my pride and timidly began to ask for help from those I most trusted. I remember lying in bed late one night in the dark and shaking as I shared what felt like immense weakness with my sister. Her simple response, “My God, Emily, you’re human.” I was speechless. My God, I was.

Arrogantly, I’d never really accepted my own humanity and thought I was some sort of superwoman who could do it all. As my sister’s words sank in, grace poured over me in ways I’d never experienced.

And I experienced grace over and over as I shared my need for help with good friends and mentors. In every case, they stretched out their arms and helped me in ways I never thought possible. Some even expressed gratitude for the opportunity to help. I realized that my wall of self-sufficiency kept people (even friends and family) at a distance. Suddenly, my willingness to accept and share my own humanity, my need for help, improved my relationships with others. Surprise: others liked to be needed as much as I did, and I had often robbed others of that opportunity by always “doing it myself.” I had been both selfish and self-deceptive in my self-reliance.

The truth of interdependence

While our society values independence above all else, I began to glimpse the kingdom of God: one in which we all depended on one another. I began to see the truth of interdependence. I couldn’t survive (and in all honesty hadn’t) without the help of others.

Humans thrive in relationships where we can be truly ourselves—that means showing up in all of our finery and all of our ugliness. That means being willing to help and be helped. Even Jesus asked people help him. And when he asked his disciples to join him and he sent them out two by two recognizing that they couldn’t do it alone either.

Asking for help and allowing others to help builds relationships and honors the reality of our interdependence. Believing I can “do it all myself” is the great illusion. We need one another. Ultimately, I don’t know that I ever really understood how to truly depend on God until I learned to accept my dependence on others. Asking for help demands humility, courage, and trust, so does faith. On my good days, I’m able to so with ease. On my not-so-good days, I still have to work to swallow my pride. It can still take a lot of courage and prayer, but between asking for help and not asking, the former is always better.

Emily Viverette is Associate Director of Chaplaincy & Pastoral Education at Wake Forest Medical Center.

Drawing: Federico  Barocci, Creative Commons.