The vulnerability of asking for help

On January 1st, 2006 I made the decision to ask for help with my addiction to drugs and alcohol. I had spent the previous year trying to contain my substance use on my own. Countless times that year I told myself “never again,” but inevitably found myself in the state of terror and exasperation that followed every relapse. Lasting sobriety only came once I sought help from a combination of recovery self-help groups, a residential treatment centre, and professional therapy. Most important were the individuals who invested their time, patience, wisdom and compassion so that I could have a future, with no other motive than to be helpful.

The amazing and unlikely life I am privileged to enjoy today speaks much more to the efforts of those who have supported me in my recovery than anything I can personally take credit for. I take this fact seriously. Today I am in the privileged position of being able to give back both personally and professionally. In my personal life, I try my hardest to live by the belief that a drop of goodness ripples through a life and community. I truly believe that small gestures of benevolence can transform a life, and need no more evidence than my own.

I make my living today as a respected and in-demand psychotherapist, helping people talk through their mental health and life difficulties. I have earned a reputation for dealing with complicated and severe cases that some professionals refer to as “Felix cases.” There are a number of people out there who say that I saved their life or the life of a loved-one. I’m grateful that I was able to be of service, but in the end, what I really do is give people in distress the space to transform themselves.

Not all cases are victories. I have seen far too many people die from their afflictions over the years. But then there are those that leave perpetual crisis for a life filled with meaning and purpose. There’s a profound satisfaction in seeing someone I deeply care about go from self-destruction to attaining life’s achievements, whether it’s graduating school, thriving in a career, entering a fulfilling relationship, maybe even getting married, or seeing those I helped now find their own fulfillment in giving back.

Now, as I find myself in need of a kidney donation, I am reminded of how hard it is to ask for help. Eighteen years after finding the courage to ask for help with my addiction, I again find myself needing to become vulnerable and rely for my well-being on the essential goodness of others. I imagine that I am like most people in that I would rather give a kidney than have to ask for one.

As a therapist, I know that there are generally two obstacles to asking for help. The first is a fear of looking weak or inadequate. This comes from a self-concept based in shame, that horrible emotion that lives in the assumption of one’s inferiority as a human being. The second obstacle to asking for help lives in the fear that no help will come, even if asked for — that vulnerability will be met with the sound of crickets. My wife Lisa is prone to comforting me by saying: “You have put enough good out into the world that it will pay it back.” In the meantime, my promise to Lisa, my family and those that care about me is that I will continue to put out that good in the world and live a life I can be proud to share with those I love.