Why is it so hard to ask for help?

It’s always been hard for me to ask for help.  Failure is too strong a word, but there is a part of me that feels disappointed that I couldn’t handle it on my own. Asking for help feels like I’m complaining about the workload. And in the culture I grew up in, there is a different attitude towards work. You do what is expected of you without complaining or making a fuss.

Sometimes I think it’s a by-product of being a first-generation American. Our parents went through so much to move to America. We compare our lives to theirs -- at least I do. And what I have to worry about will never compare to what my parents had to deal with.

I got to spend my 20s thinking about what my passion is, instead of thinking about how to survive in a new country.

I got to work at companies that paid livable salaries, instead of third-world wages. 

I got to live in big cities with lots to do, instead of struggling for basic necessities. 

There’s this guilt that comes with asking for help. I should suck it up, work the long hours, and get it done. I have it so good compared to what my parents had to go through. And I’d keep piling onto my stacked plate without making a peep. Eventually, I would have so much to do that I would feel helpless. My coping mechanism was to tell myself, “What gets done, gets done. What doesn’t, doesn’t.” I felt so helpless that I needed to remove myself from the situation and convince myself that it was out of my control.I was burned out.

But maybe it isn’t a suffering contest. We live in a different world now. We are ALWAYS connected. I can’t even imagine being able to walk out of the office doors on Friday at 5PM and be unreachable until Monday. That must have been nice.

I’m trying to start validating my boundaries. The stress I have isn’t better or worse than the stress my parents felt. It’s just different.