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tragic flaw

n.

A flaw in the character of the protagonist of a tragedy that brings the protagonist to ruin or sorrow.

My own personal tragic flaw may be my inability, refusal, or resistance (whatever...take your pick), to ask for help. I always feel like I'm inconveniencing someone...and that's no one's fault but my own. All of my loved ones are sure to remind me until they're blue in the face, that they want to be there for me.

What I'm trying to say is, I needed help, and I should have asked for it.

My heart is breaking as I type this. I didn't tell my mom until yesterday that I had been sick, let alone go into the humbling details of my affliction that will no doubt stick with me for a long time. I don't even know why I didn't tell her; looking back, I think I was afraid of getting a lecture. Not that I wouldn't have deserved one - because I did - my best guess is just that I just didn't feel like risking getting one. In my vulnerability due to physical pain and overall fatigue, I cringed at the thought of my mom openly expressing disapproval about the way I failed to take care of myself. But my fears, aside from being unfounded, were silly. Because really...what was the use? My body was punishing me enough to make any critical words that hailed down on me carry nothing more than the weight of feathers.

Well, that was horribly unfair of me. I told my mom everything after the worst of it was over, and she expressed nothing but concern and tenderness...after her initial reaction of: "If you ever need or want me, I will be on the next flight out to you."

That's what she says to us when things get really tough, and when she says that, she's 100% serious. My mother will do anything for her kids.

I believe her; she's caught a same-day flight to come to me before. There aren't many things I do (or don't do) that I really regret, but not calling her immediately to ask for her to come care for me, in that way only a mother can, is one of them. And based on the way I feel right now, I am going to experience the sting of this one for a long time.

Oh, with what did I respond, you ask? After some hesitation, during which I was lying to myself before I could utter the words aloud, I said: "Oh, no Mom...it's okay, really. I'm fine! Besides, by the time you get here I'm sure I will be completely better. Plus, my apartment is small and I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable and/or spend money on a hotel room."

...let me give you a moment to process this...

...

...

Yep. You got it...I literally risked my life by allowing a severe infection to settle into my kidneys and bladder, suffered the most difficult week (emotionally and physically) that I can remember ever having, and I told my more-than-willing, ever-loving mother not to fly out here because I was worried she might not like my fucking couch?

Why do I do this to myself? And to my loved ones? Because when I allow myself to get steamrolled because I'm too proud or thick or stubborn (or all three), it affects the people who love me too. And that's not cool.

I'm floundering. I need help, but I don't even know where to start, or who to ask, or what to do to improve myself.

...help? Please...before my downfall.