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How good are you at asking for help?

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How often do you ask for help? One of the biggest problems I have is asking for help for anything.  I remember when my ex-wife and I decided to move back from California after my first daughter was born.  I flew her and the baby back to her parents house in Arkansas, then flew back to California, rented a 27 foot truck and proceeded to load an entire 3 bedroom duplex into the back of the truck by myself.  After a day of loading, I climbed in the truck and started the 2000 mile cross country trek alone.  And when we arrived, I would have unloaded by myself until a back spasm hit and knocked me to the ground.  Even then I still limped around picking up lighter boxes and smaller things all the while favoring my right side. It's crazy and I wish I knew where it came from. It's a fear, I know, almost a phobia.  Maybe I'm afriad people will see me as weak.  Maybe I'm afraid that by asking for help, I'll owe something.  I've spent some time meditat...
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CHAPTER FOUR Jake started thinking about Unc when he woke up. The familiar fog was there, the rushing throb of a headache that beat in time with his heart. He was so used to it by now that he only noticed when it was gone. He kept on thinking as he puttered around the trailer, moving from the queen size bed under the curved roof on one end to the full size sofa under the picture window on the other. Thirty feet or so, but the different space didn’t offer any clarity. He hated Sundays. Amanda kept the bar closed on Sunday. She said she needed a day off. And laughed when Jake asked for a key so he could go in and drink by himself. Told him he could drink at home, which he did, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing was. He could hear the cars on the road from here. The street wasn’t busy, just enough traffic to remind him he wasn’t alone. Hell, maybe he missed the sound of construction across the street. The damned real estate development had been go...
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