Whose Lap Can You Sit On?

I recently drove up to Santa Barbara to spend the day with my friend, Jennifer Rudolph Walsh, in part so we could record an episode of Pulling the Thread. As one of my long-time mentors, Jen and I have spent a lot of time together during this period that she calls her “sacred pause,” which is the transitional space between her high-powered career at WME and whatever she brings into the world next. I have been in my own version of a sacred pause, however halting it has felt. It has been one of the quietest periods of my life, yet I’ve also been busy pulling a book out of my throat, launching my own podcast, etc.

After I stopped taping, Jen and I kept talking. She made an off-hand remark about someone being the sort of person with a lap you can actually sit on. I wanted to know what she meant, particularly in how it applies to adults like us. “Do you remember how when you were a kid, and you’d sit in an adult’s lap, there were the people where you could immediately relax, and just let go?” She asked. “And then other people where you were kind of in a squat, holding yourself, afraid to let them feel your body weight?” I immediately understood what she meant. I can feel it now in my body, as I type, that tensing, that fear of being too much, too overwhelming with my own needs.

I’ve always struggled to accept support, particularly at work. Throughout my career, I’ve never had an assistant—I don’t know how to delegate, or feel comfortable passing on work that I could just as well do myself. I’ve always had a great team, but everyone works autonomously, which is how I always preferred to work, too. 

A few months ago, I had dinner with the delightful Danielle Robay, who engaged in some reverse mentoring: “You need help. There are a lot of people offering to help you, including me! ACCEPT HELP.” I didn’t know how, exactly, but I told her I’d try. I knew I needed to figure out how to get bigger. And I couldn’t do it on my own. She introduced me to Missy Modell, who I’ve been working with for a few months to get organized around what I’m putting into the world. And every week (or two), she pries a few more things out of my hands. (Like my Mailchimp PW, as insisting I send a newsletter by myself means that I never send a newsletter. The goal is to make this a weekly thing.)

It’s a process, this accepting help thing. Learning to relax into support. Maybe sitting on someone’s lap is a weird metaphor for an adult woman, but it works for me. I hold the image in my mind whenever I feel the urge to pull my weight back from others who are willing to help me carry the load.