Droppin' Plates
So this past Sunday I was walking over to the garbage area to clear off my plates.
I was talking to Gloria, since we were going to work later that day. She had said that she was coming later and asked me to leave the door open for her.
While balancing a plate, I tried to reach for my phone to call her. My cup was sitting there on my plate.
This is the point of my post- I was too afraid to ask for help. Pride. It's something as dumb as hey, can you grab that cup for me so it doesn't tip over and spill on me? But I couldn't. I wanted to carry everything myself.
The cup spilled. It had hot chocolate in it, and the fudge collected at the bottom dribbled down on my church pants and onto my shoes.
This is exactly how I am in real life. I want to carry everything myself and I don't want to share my load with other people. I'm afraid to ask for help, afraid to admit that everything might be where it should be.
How long until all my plates fall? I'm not sure. It happened to me once. I don't want it to happen again.
I was talking to Gloria, since we were going to work later that day. She had said that she was coming later and asked me to leave the door open for her.
While balancing a plate, I tried to reach for my phone to call her. My cup was sitting there on my plate.
This is the point of my post- I was too afraid to ask for help. Pride. It's something as dumb as hey, can you grab that cup for me so it doesn't tip over and spill on me? But I couldn't. I wanted to carry everything myself.
The cup spilled. It had hot chocolate in it, and the fudge collected at the bottom dribbled down on my church pants and onto my shoes.
This is exactly how I am in real life. I want to carry everything myself and I don't want to share my load with other people. I'm afraid to ask for help, afraid to admit that everything might be where it should be.
How long until all my plates fall? I'm not sure. It happened to me once. I don't want it to happen again.