Julie Helen: 'I've learned it's ok to ask people for help'

I’m breathing a sigh of relief that the month is nearly over. I always find the change of seasons a challenge and the world seems to turn topsy-turvy on me in October each year.

The funny thing is, the month is usually more than half over before I remember why I feel sluggish and sometimes even scared, and then I remember that it’s just October and it too will pass.

I know it sounds a bit dramatic to say that I feel scared but it’s a genuine thing. Every surface is slippery and slimy, we transition the clothes we wear and we are moving into winter mode. I find the in-between bit tricky. I often get caught off guard with a few slips and trips and I feel like I am always on the back foot.

A recent close call for a fall happened when I was collecting Ricky from our neighbour Frances, a house he gets off the school bus at and has great fun with a house full of kids. He has a jam sandwich that is somehow way more tasty than in our house and he begs for more time when I arrive at the door. One day, as I stepped over the threshold my stick went to slip and by some super-human feat, Frances caught me under the arm and saved me, even though she had a young child on her other hip. She will forevermore be known as SuperFran, though she’s been that in my world for many years already, always there with a helping hand, time for a natter and a great friend to have in my corner.

I should have slowed down that day after a near miss and taken a different speed for October but instead I drove on. I don’t really know how to do things any other way. I’ve had a few more incidents which have led to me needing to hunker down a bit. When it came to voting, I asked Dad for help and it made things infinitely easier. I visited my cousins in Tipperary and I thought I could walk safely into the house my grandparents lived in, one I’ve been walking into my whole life. But when I was standing on the slimy footpath, I didn’t trust my feet and I asked Áine to get my wheelchair for me as I didn’t feel safe.

As I felt those words come out of me, I was both sad and proud. I felt sad that I just couldn’t walk in the door, but proud that I asked for help before I fell and hurt myself. Once I was inside the door and in my wheelchair, it didn’t matter anymore, and Áine had reacted as if I had asked her for the most normal thing in the world.

Similarly with Dad, when I thanked him for helping me to vote he half laughed and shot back his signature “not a bother, girl”. As I was driving to Tipperary, I thought about all the times he’s helped that I never even thought to acknowledge, but for him it’s just the most natural thing to do. I thought the same about my cousins Áine and Aoife. They’ve never known the world without me in it and when I was planning the visit and told Aoife I might need the wheelchair in the house over voice note, she replied remarking that the chair was a given, not a bother.

It appears I’m the only one bothered and there’s a lovely lesson in that for me.

I have great people around me and it’s OK to ask for help, especially when it feels hard to do. That’s when it counts the most.