Eight years ago this is what we looked like — for five seconds — when a polite stranger took our picture in front of the London School of Economics. We had a romantic notion of visiting Clifford’s alma mater with our new baby in tow.
A few moments prior this is what we looked like as we struggled to take the picture ourselves:
It was an early lesson for us as new parents. It takes a village to make a good photo happen with an 18-month-old. We needed support to get the job done. And because we really wanted that picture we were willing to ask for help.
If such “help us!” asks are possible of strangers, why is it that requests for care from those closer to us can feel so difficult? With loved ones shouldn’t we be our most authentic selves?
Years ago I had a mentor who questioned my use of the word “authentic.” In grad school he would stop me short with a hard stare and ask questions like: “But authentic to whom?! And what even IS community?” He’d demand that I interrogate my vocabulary. My use of language. Myself.
It is in the midst of such personal interrogatory work that I think the truest story of a vulnerable ask is revealed. Little is required of momentary connections with strangers — they are fleeting. Whereas the real dissection of language requires time. And relationship. In my own life some relationships have actually crumbled under the weight of my words. My asks. So much so that it’s been tempting to stop using them. To just take the proverbial selfie all on my own.
And yet, over the past year, vulnerable asks for help HAVE brought my most authentic self into relative focus. A constant parsing of words like “authenticity” and “community” has manifested in a book and the writing of Good Enough. This weekly ask (of myself to write, and of a reader to engage) is building a community. That is what I really want: to get all of us together in the picture.
What do you want? What’s your vulnerable ask of the world today? I hope you make one.
A request: please leave a comment. I’d so appreciate if you’d let me (and other readers) know your thoughts on this relational work we are doing — being “good enough” together.
I'm not sure how to feel. If I'm being honest, and I don't mind, I simply don't ask for help. Ever. I guess, early on, it was instilled in me by circumstances beyond my control the notion that no one cares and no one is coming to save me. I'm just on my own.
In fact it's even sorta mysterious as to how I write as the only thing that wills me forward is the belief that people will read my work long after I'm gone. It's actually sort of surreal to even entertain the notion that someone might want to read or care about anything I do or say presently. And this isn't impostor syndrome it's this deep seated belief that I'm essentially a ghost. A memory for future people.
But I do write. I do communicate. And sometimes...just sometimes....I do ask for something. But it's super rare. I DO desire to be part of a community. But honestly I couldn't tell you what community I belong to. Ha.
I've been working on a fictional world for 23 years now. And I've only just started sharing it. So, this is a big step.
So uh, I guess all that was to say. Um. Hi! Lol
Lately, I have been thinking a lot about where I can direct my asks and with whom I can be my “authentic” self.
Being (too?) vulnerable is a lot to ask of ourselves in this world where, as you name, relationships get crumbly under the weight of our words.
I am asking nothing of the world today, but I appreciate you encouraging me to do so. I will sit with my needs and try to take a risk by asking for support --- because selfies are hard when your hands are already full!!