It can be very scary to ask for help.
Here’s a story about my own fear.
Several years ago, I was asked to attend a therapeutic retreat for therapists, put on by a well-known psychiatric treatment center – a kind of emotional caregiving for caregivers.
I was nervous about going. I hadn’t been “in therapy” myself for a long time. I was much more accustomed to sitting on the other side of the Kleenex box.
I hemmed and hawed. I fussed around about scheduling and emailed questions about unknown details (that whole “not in control” thing…).
But I went.

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The place where I went is actually closed now or run by different people. So this isn’t some ad for a particular treatment center.
But this place was beautiful. Acres upon acres of a working ranch, cattle and all. It offered everything from experiential treatment, like equine therapy and zip-lines (their motto was, “Things you do, you remember”) to group and individual therapy.
There were about two dozen of us – therapists from around the country. For two and a half days, they fed us, educated us about their program, and offered us the same therapeutic experiences they offer their patients.
We began with equine therapy...
It was fascinating to work with the horses. I don’t know my way around horses and they’d always frightened me just a little. So I was doing well to be calm. I watched others cry unexpected tears as they hoisted themselves onto a very patient animal for the very first time.
But I held back.
Then there was the sweat lodge…
And then there was the sweat lodge. Steaming heat ran up to 130 degrees, as we sat cross-legged, packed into the small round dome covered in heavy blankets. Sweat, tears and whatever was coming from my nose poured out of me. For three hours, 20-odd of us prayed, sang, chanted, shared, laughed, thought, remembered, and let go. All in utter blackness, with only the light from glowing sacred rocks to illuminate and center us.
This is where I broke. It was an amazing experience. I cried and laughed. And cried again.
I didn’t think my right knee was going to make it. But every time I tried to pull it into me for relief, it slipped out of my hands. It remains attached, but may never forgive me.
And what I learned in the labyrinth was incredible…
The final day, we were led to a labyrinth. Perhaps some of you have walked a labyrinth, but I never had. In fact, I was fairly judgmental about them. What possible good could it do to follow a path with sharp turns that existed within a circle, until you reach the center, and then walk back out? I thought it was one of those New Age-y things, that went along with burning incense and wearing tie-dye.
I was wrong. Again.
As a turn approached, I realized I could not see the next section of the path – whether it was long or short, what direction it might take me. It hit me that this was like life. I’d never known my path. No one ever knows what a turn will bring.
And in that moment, I couldn’t see.
My only job was to keep walking.
At that moment, I felt a deep inner peace and relief.
Why am I sharing this experience with you?
I am sharing this because I too had anxiety about therapy. Was I willing to be the real me? Could I or would I talk about the things that were in my heart and mind? I did, and it was more than worth it.
I am sharing this because I want to encourage you to look for these kinds of experiences. You will grow if you do, no matter what your age.
I am sharing this because it’s hard for many of us to ask for help. I asked. And I received.
Maybe you should consider it.
You can hear more about mental health and many other topics by listening to my podcast, SelfWork with Dr. Margaret Rutherford. Subscribe to my website and receive one weekly newsletter including my weekly blog post and podcast! If you’d like to join my FaceBook closed group, then click here and answer the membership questions! Welcome!
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Photo by Jonny Gios on Unsplash.
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Oh wow. I love this so much. I needed to read this…I find myself thinking that most of the time when I read your posts.
Thanks so much Michelle. Those words mean a lot to me.
Hi Margaret,
Increased ambiguity? You mean we get more forgetful? Even bloggers? No joke. I thought if we excercise our minds, we can help avoid that. Nice to see you.
Janice
Lol Janice! No, what I mean by increased ambiguity is an added sense of not knowing what our future holds – less of a perceived sense of being in control. Memory problems are a good example of that, actually. They are simply more likely to happen as we age. Thanks for commenting!
Hi Margaret,
Increased ambiguity? You mean we get more forgetful? Even bloggers? No joke. I thought if we excercise our minds, we can help avoid that. Nice to see you.
Janice
What an amazing experience. I agree about stepping out of our comfort zone, Margaret You are so right!
It was amazing Carol! Hard to put on paper really it was so moving to me. Thanks for writing.
Learning to ask is a very hard thing but as life goes we learn that asking is necessary for our own happiness and those around us. How will anyone know if we don’t tell them?
Great comment Barbara. Thanks so much.