Relying on Self-Reliance

It has been roughly five years since I’ve had to clean a tub. Or lift something heavy by myself. Or kill a spider. It’s not that I can’t do any of these things. (On the contrary, my independent streak is fairly legendary.) It’s that I’ve had someone else to depend on, someone to take over a few of the less desirable tasks of domesticity, or at least split them with me. I’ve had a partner. I had a partner.

Everyone likes having someone they can look to when they’re in need of a helping hand. In the most intimate of situations, that person is a spouse or significant other, and they fulfill more than just the title of resident bug-squasher. They close the circle of emotional, mental, and physical needs that help make us complete human beings. The longer they’re in our lives, the more we become dependent on them. We set aside what we know we can provide and do for ourselves because it’s simply no longer necessary to provide or do them. We limit ourselves unconsciously, willingly, to make room in our lives for a relationship more important than our independence. So what happens when the circle is broken, when we’re suddenly left holding the scrub brush or the heavy furniture or the flyswatter?

I found myself pondering that very question a couple of days ago as I stared at the smallish but (I was fast realizing) really heavy bookshelf stuffed into the back of my SUV. I had bought it from a thrift store, fully assembled, without a second thought. Three burly employees loaded it for me, and I drove my merry way home, pleased with my find. Unfortunately, I realized my mistake as soon as I pulled into the driveway—I should have bought the three burly employees, as well! I considered my options: I could go next door and beg the help of the neighbor I barely knew beyond the occasional “good morning.” I could leave the shelf in my car for an indefinite amount of time until another friend was able to come over and help me. I could try to disassemble it, though it was really more of a “once it’s together it’s together” piece.

So, there was nothing for it but to channel my inner weight-lifter. I’ll spare you the gory details, but I eventually managed to remove the shelf from my car and get it into my living room with no damage to either of us. That would have been cause for celebration—if the living room was its new home. Alas, the shelf I had just spent the last fifteen minutes maneuvering was destined for my office on the second floor. I would have to keep going. And I did. After some plotting, I finally ducked my shoulder inside the shelf, stood up straight, and literally pulled myself up the stairs by the railing. Was it the safest thing I’ve ever done? Definitely not. Honestly, the whole venture was pretty precarious, and I would have been in some serious trouble if I’d slipped. On the other hand…

It felt damn good to remember that while I have been relying on someone, I don’t necessarily need to rely on someone. I’ve been feeling quite keenly the devastation of my own broken circle, and the massive gap sometimes seems impossible to shrink, let alone close up. It was empowering to feel even the tiniest sliver of a shard fall back into place. I’m not about to declare triumph over my struggles or anything—I’m nowhere near that—but I do smirk a little every time I walk into my office and see that shelf.

It’s a start.

Lesson of the Day: You’re stronger than you think—channel your inner Hulk!