OK, I get it already!

This past week I've learned that the Universe, in all it's bewildering glory, has been hitting me repeatedly over the head, neck and shoulders whilst trying to tell me something. Indeed. The Universe sent a message with The Kitchen Project. Then there was the Surgical Segue. Now it's the IT/ISP/email boondoggle with a sore throat/medicine head/cough cocktail.

The Universe has been trying to tell me to ask for help. Put more correctly, the Universe has been giving me permission through stressful, strenuous and downright painful times that I need to ask for help. I can't do it all alone. I know that. Or I thought I did. Now I really know that.

My business coach put it another way for me last night. She told me that maybe the Universe is telling me that it is OK to ask for help. That it is not a sign of weakness, but of courage, to go outside yourself to find the answers. She suggested that when the next problem comes up (and it shall, oh yes, it shall), that I ask myself, "I wonder who can help me with this?" Smart, ain't she?

Thinking back, there were other less obvious messages. In June, I attended a luncheon where the speaker was a rather humorous, yet strong, confident woman. She had that way about her, like she was talking Only. To. You. She explained that women think that doing Everything makes us strong and independent when it only weakens us. She spun a story of when she was dating an guy and he came to pick her up from the airport. When he offered to get her luggage, she told him, "it's ok, I've got it." And proceeded to carry every piece of luggage by herself. At the time she thought it meant that she was an strong, independent woman. Fast forward a few years. She's dating another guy. Same scenario. He offers to get her luggage. This time she says, "sure honey." And they walked away with him carrying the heavy load, and her carrying her purse. She asked us, "which woman had more power?"

Like most women, I try to do Everything. I have in my head that I am Wonder Woman and Super Girl all rolled into one. The problem is that my cape is not the wrong size and ill fitting. It really doesn't flatter my skin tone. That sateen fabric gets dirty often and most of the time it's at the dry cleaner. This means that I'm usually without my Super Powers for important jobs like Rescuing Puppies and Finding the Cure for Rapid Remote Control Changing. The rest of the time, it's just me, scratching my head, trying to whittle down a problem. With the weight of the world on my shoulders. And then there's the Yesofcoursenoproblem Demon. Do you have one? Mine clings to me. Drive art supplies across town for a charity. Sure! Run a meeting, come up with the topic, guest list and run down the contract with the facility. Why not? Donate 10 hours of design time to a foundation. Bring it on.

I drag the Yesofcoursenoproblem Demon around all the time with one hand. The Icandoitmyself Bitch is curled under the other arm. Slung around my shoulders like a shawl (or is it a poncho?) is my OCD. Of course, all of them muddle my brain, making it hard to think clearly. Something's got to give. I want to chuck them all under the next city bus, enjoy a glass of wine while watching them flatten, ooze their goo out onto the tarmac, and lose their power over me.

For the next few weeks, I'm going to try, no, I am going to ask myself, "I wonder who can help me with this?" whenever a problem comes up. We'll see how it goes.