Call it pride, call it what you will, but today has been quite a humbling experience. As a child and even more so as an adult, I have always been very independent. I do not like to ask for help unless it is absolutely necessary and today I had to ask for money to cover the bad check I had written.
I remember when I was in college and moved into a new apartment. My new roommate, Roselyn, was not scheduled to move into the apartment for another two weeks so I was living there alone. My measly possessions consisted of the clothing on my back and in my closet as well as a few miscellaneous pots, pans, plates, and silverware. Looking back in hindsight, I was about $50 dollars shy of being homeless. But, with a roof over my head and enough money to eat and buy gas – I was content.
The first night in my apartment was evidence of this fact. Armed with blankets and comforters – remnants from my last apartment, I made a pallet and slept on the hardwood floor. Every morning thereafter, I would awake groggy, stiff, and sore, but without complaints. It could be worse so, I didn’t complain and no one knew the circumstances of my situation except my family. Unfortunately, during this time, we meaning my family and me were not on the best of terms. Actually, my dad and I were not speaking so there was no way in hell I was going to call him and ask for anything. Especially since I knew he would say “NO” – so why waste the energy?
Nevertheless, about two weeks later, I received a phone call from my mother, with a secret plot to undermine my father’s authority. Unbeknownst to my father, my mother bought me bedroom furniture and needed assistance with her plan to deliver the spoils to my apartment. There was no way my father could ever find out about her subterfuge or all would be lost.
Months later, the relationship between my father and I was restored, however, it is out of my character to ask for help. Thus, taking me back to the present – asking my mother for money. As I explained earlier, it was a very humbling experience. Everything in me was having an adverse reaction to the idea…at one point I think my blood pressure began to rise and my heart began palpitating. Okay, I’m exaggerating, but you get the point. However, by lunchtime, I could not put the deed off any longer…not with the threat of a bounced check looming in the background.
When I explained the situation with Bryce, the bedroom furniture, and his mother – who my mother hates and affectionately calls “Hattie the Witch” – there was no need to ask for the money. My mother immediately asked me what I needed. Thank you Lord! I considered making a sign that said…”Will Work For Food” and holding it up when I saw her. My mother has such a sick sense of humor; she would have doubled over with laughter. Too bad, it was hectic at work this morning, because I didn’t get a chance to create the sign.
During the walk to my mother’s office, I was filled with such relief. While only a 10-minute walk from my office, I was invigorated by the time we met during my lunch break. Quickly, we exchanged a $350 dollar check for hugs and I was on my way to the bank. However, not without one last comment about “Hattie the Witch”! Sometimes my mother can be such a “mean girl” and I absolutely love her for it!
I wanted to email Bryce and pass on this message…”once again I have foiled your evil plot to destroy me. Like the Phoenix, I shall rise out of the ashes!” Maybe not, I don’t want him to know that I waste time thinking about him. My earlier counseling session was emotional enough.