Asking for Help

I battled with undiagnosed OCD for fifteen years before I finally sought help. Now, that just seems silly.

These days, when I encounter a problem, I open my mouth and ask for help. This isn’t weak. It’s smart.

I’m so over the ridiculous stigma attached to this. There is nothing shameful about identifying areas where I struggle and then seeking out solutions. I celebrate my enterprising, aggressive spirit and commitment to health.

This post is not to toot my own horn but to give my blog readers another way of framing the often humbling experience of asking for help. Doing so is a brave, intrepid, wise move– don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Vintage inscription made by old typewriter