Lesson learned.

I had a really strange occurrence happen to me this past week and I've been wanting to tell you all about it. Let's start at the beginning:

(If you are squeamish you might not want to read this particular post).

Last Sunday I went to the movies with my sister to see The Lovely Bones. I read the book awhile back and was really curious to see how well they could adapt it--it's a doozie. Anyway, for some strange reason I felt a bit nauseous as we made our way into the theater. For someone with lactose intolerance like me, though, this isn't all that rare. I don't have a nervous stomach but sometimes there is something in a dish that I don't know about and soon enough I feel a little off. And that is just how I felt. Off.

Anyway, about 20 minutes in to the film I start to feel like I have to puke. As in, right now, must leave, must go now. I lean over to my sister and say, "I'm leaving to puke." She thinks I am kidding because, well, I kid like this with her sometimes. I don't have time to set her straight. I make my way down the ramp of the theater and barely get to the trash barrel in the back hallway. I really try to get sick but can't. Suddenly I am so weak that I am falling into the trash can, literally. My knees buckle and my vision is going hazy. Some kids pass by the entrance to that particular theater and see me.

"You don't look so good. Lady, do you need help?"

For a split second I almost say no, that I am ok. How I could ever deduce that falling into a trash barrel and being near fainting is 'ok' and something I could ever handle on my own scared me. Fortunately my better judgment kicked in and I nodded weakly and said, Yes. They leave to get help. At this point I realize I am pretty much losing consciousness. I get nervous and try to stand up and start making my way out of the theater. The only problem is I soon find that I can't walk in a straight line. So I am weaving back and forth down the main hallway and almost knocking people over in the process as they are walking towards me simply because I cannot avoid them. Think 'bad TV villain-ish'. Or maybe a bad Godzilla impersonation might be more accurate. All of a sudden I slam sideways into a wall and fall down. Since I have to be the luckiest girl in the world, though, the last man I almost "took out" comes over to help me.

"I'm an EMT, " he said. "I saw you falling but couldn't get over to catch you in time. What are your symptoms?"

Do I have an angel on my shoulder or what?

We go through how I am feeling and I am very weak and woozy. We can't quite figure out what is up. They ask if I want an ambulance (by then the theater manager was there) but all I wanted was my sister who they then leave to get from the theater. Mystery Guardian Angel EMT Man calms me down when all of a sudden the unthinkable happens. I start projectile vomiting all over the place. Yes, and not once, not twice but four times. Did I mention Mystery Guardian Angel EMT Man was cute? Because he was. Did I mention he was an ex-Marine? Yup, found that out, too. So there I am, sitting in my vomit, dazed, apologizing profusely to this nice, cute stranger who is helping the strange puking girl who almost passed out. All I could think to myself was, Surely, I cannot look my best right now. He swoops in and lifts me up and helps me to the lobby. By that point I am regaining consciousness and my sister (they got her out of the theater) is there. She had totally thought I was kidding. Anyway, I then stumble into the bathroom to rid my body of anything and everything I have ever eaten in my entire life. Twice. Steph gets me home (I obviously can't drive) and from that point on until Thursday, my life was a blur of extreme shaking, chills, getting sick and not being able to sleep. I could not eat anything. I could not do anything to help myself either, so Steph and my Dad waited on me all the time. Thank goodness I have such a nice family.

Now, I am back on solid foods and regaining my strength. Turns out it was food poisoning the likes of which I have never known and ultimately one of the scariest experiences of my life. No joke.

I learned a lot through this illness, though. And it was more than just, when in doubt don't eat the seafood salad sandwich. My having to rely on other people made me, of all things, extremely uncomfortable. I am not great at accepting help and have known this about myself for a while. I don't know about you but I have always been a sort of 'one woman show' whether it comes to working my events or even something as simple as bringing in my groceries. Single women are often sent a tough message to interpret and I have definitely fallen prey to that, too: be kind and gentle but if you need people you could be coined as needy, so be careful.

So I became the picture of independence. Partly because of people not coming through at certain times when I was younger and partly because that is what I witnessed sometimes in my Mom. And somewhere along the line a script started looping in my head that to depend on people means they might not come through for you when you really need them and that I should do everything to avoid this kind of disappointment. And that I could take care of myself all by myself. And so I did. I know: is that a bad after school special kind of thought or what? I'm grimacing as I write it. Anyway, I did it. Walls up, case closed.

But herein lies the irony--I would most likely help anyone who needed it. I'm the friend who helps you move, who drives you home when you've had too much to drink even though it is way out of my way, the one who keeps her word at any cost and would never want to inconvenience you. So I'm good at the whole be helpful part but hadn't quite learned to extend that kindness to myself.

Ultimately, though, my inability to help myself while I was sick and my having to let others help me turned out to be a great gift. Here was this other way of living that I was being reminded about. People can be there for you but, and here's the trick, only if you let them. And only if they know their help is wanted. There was something very beautiful and vulnerable about people coming through for me when I really needed them. And what I realized is help is another word for love and when someone offers help, they are putting their love into action. By not accepting help in the past, I had only been robbing myself of the joy of being loved and helped in a way I am always more than happy to extend to those around me. No one can go it alone and no one should and thankfully, now I know more than ever that I don't have to.