So. Many. Boxes.

I looked around the room. I was surrounded. I had been unpacking for a week, but I felt like I wasn’t making much progress in any one room.

I just moved boxes.

I moved them from one too to the other.

Some were empty, so they went outside.

Some were partially empty, so I dug through them for that one last piece.

Some things just needed put away.

I stood up and looked around the room.

I was overwhelmed with the task at hand. I had just been doing it for so long it felt like I wasn’t getting any where.

I needed help.

I was tired of doing everything on my own.

When was the last time I asked for help?

Hmmm. I don’t remember.

I am more of “I’ll do it myself” person and a more of “I’m fine” person.

When I should be ” I need my pack” person.

Every Spring in Cowboy Country begins what I have dubbed the Branding Trail. They start with gathering, counting, looking and marking new calves. Cowboys have their pack that help them. It’s a Code of the West. You helped me, I’ll help you.

That’s how they get it all done in a month. Every single weekend. They know they can’t possibly do it all alone.

They ask for help.

Help.

So here’s my question. Why don’t we ask for help more often? Is it this sense of pride? Or ego?

Women have become so independent that it’s hard for us to admit we need help. Help unpacking. Help cooking. Help parenting. Help girlfriend-ing  and wife-ing.

We can do it all.  Not alone.
I’m exhausted. I am physically tired this week from boxes. Touching them, looking inside them, and wondering why I have kept all these things.
I am also so very thankful for the small group of humans in my life that wouldn’t let me do it alone.

Not everyone is going to ask for help. Some times we need to force our help upon them.