I can't say that I've been completely relieved of this facet of my character, either. I still avoid asking for assistance. Even from my friends. Even to this day.
Let me give an example from just a couple years ago. I was putting another engine in my pickup truck. Unfortunately, I had rolled the truck thirty feet down the driveway to the street.
This wasn't hard, since there was a definite downhill slope to the driveway. But, going back uphill towards the garage was another story.
For anyone who's never learned the trick to pushing a car up a grade, the easiest way to get it to move is to put your butt up against the back of the car, and walk backwards. This uses the big quadricep muscles in the front of your thighs, gives your legs a lot of leverage, and doesn't put any strain on your back or upper body.
So, I walked around to the back of the old blue truck, put my tailbone up against the tailgate, and began to push. And, the old girl inched up the driveway.
Now, as riveting as this all has been, there's a plot twist here. You see, there was a crew of guys working on a phone line or something about a hundred feet away. Seeing me pushing the truck, they stopped work to come help. One of 'em said something like, "hey, we can give you a hand" as they approached. Pretty nice of 'em.
Unfortunately, my mouth answered before it ran the words past my brain: "no thanks, I got it." What the hell? I didn't even think about it; I just shot out that answer.
The guys all looked at each other, shrugged, and went back to their work. I kept pushing the old truck up the driveway. Facing straight towards 'em, as I inched my way backwards up towards the garage.
Every so often, I'd chock the tire, and run up to the cab to adjust the position of the steering wheel. Then, I'd return to the back, put my back against the truck, and try not to look in the direction of the workmen who'd tried to help me.
This probably only took me five minutes, but sometimes, five minutes can be a very long time.
Now, I've heard guys in meetings talk about how they'd had some kind of 'Lone Ranger Syndrome'. Well, one day I realized, even the Lone Ranger had his faithful companion, Tonto.
On a number of occasions, it's been pointed out in meetings that the Twelve Steps reference us in the plural. "We admitted..." "... restore us to sanity." "...turn our will and our lives over..." But, perhaps the best demonstration of this principle comes from my home group's former coffee maker. I had the honor of getting to attend meetings with this guy for a couple years; had a lot of respect for him.
I may have missed this particular week; I was working 3rd shift for a while and didn't get there regularly. I'll quote the way it was told to me:
The topic was '...A WE program'....
following several less succinct speakers S- spoke the following....
"WE, got me seven years. Thank You."
As I read over that last sentence, his eloquence is clear. But, let me tell you a little more about him. Because, nobody who made his acquaintance would be likely to mistake him for a needy or dependent person.
Our coffee maker walked the better part of a mile down to the meeting every week for years. On two artificial legs, without a cane. And, he made the coffee with ten fingers that had been amputated at the second knuckle. So, his fingers were stumps, only an inch or so long. This man didn't ask for help, didn't ask for rides; he was a very self-sufficient individual. However, when it came to sobriety, humility came first. He stayed sober to the end of his days.
Rest in peace, my friend.
And, if accepting help is good enough for a guy this tough, it's good enough for me.
-M
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