M’aidez

May 1st. May Day. That very last thing I feel like doing is writing  a post which is the very reason I am writing. The sound of resignation was named in me today, and if for no other reason, I am proving to myself and to others that I have not resigned. Not yet. I will write.

Mayday! Mayday!

We all know that means Help me! Right? We know that? It’s the first thought that ran through my mind this morning when I woke and realized it was May first. Not, Look at the beautiful sunshine and a chance to live another day, but rather,

Help me!

Help came in a delicious breakfast prepared by my daughter, in a timely text from a friend, in a painfully honest conversation full of hard truth with another, in buckets and gallons of gut-wrenching, soul-wringing tears and heart-pounding sobs. It came in music from the neighbor’s house as I weeded the strawberry patch.

It is with me now as I write.

Mayday is from the French, M’aidez. (Help me) I did not know this until I looked up the history. It makes sense. I am glad for those years of French to help me understand. At least I was learning pronunciation when I was not being sent out of class for disruption.

Help me!

It is risky to ask for help. To receive help from others. To be reached out to and reach back. To feel safe in needing help. It is risky to need.

As I prepare for the final certificate 2 session next week and sit in my story, I am acutely aware of my need for, yet resistance to, help. I can see where resistance was formed and solidified. Where need was weakness and weakness was not tolerated.

I was needy.

Help waits for me at the end of the day in a living room with friends offering to engage hard struggles. I do not have to be alone in what feels too big and scary.

Because inside of me is a 19 year old who is trying to keep it together, and everything feels too big and scary.

M’aidez!

5 thoughts on “M’aidez

  1. Iris Nauman

    Yes. I tell my grandchildren … when you look at me you see an older lady with smile wrinkles on her face and extra weight around her middle, but inside I am that young girl I was at 16. While I’m so different in many ways, I’m still the very same in a lot. I am so thankful for the joys of every day but continue to struggle with the insecurities of my youth.
    I do enjoy what you write. I get to reflect. Blessings to you and thanks.

    Reply
    1. Julie Post author

      Thank you for reading. I am trying to find and be kind to that girl inside. Maybe one day our teenage selves will meet.

      Reply
  2. Aaron

    Wow. So much in one post. I’m glad you’re getting more and teaching others the goodness of receiving help. Thanks for helping me. Happy May.

    Reply
  3. Marilyn Frazee

    This is how I feel . . . Help!
    God says . . . Ok!
    I say . . . How will You help?
    God says . . . Start and you will see!
    I say. . . Ok!

    Thank you for sharing so I can have my conversation with God! I love you!
    Now to finish lunch and Start!

    Reply

Thanks for heart-composting with me! I appreciate your words.