Confessions of a Crazy Lady.

So, a few nights ago, the wicked witch came into my room and waved her wand over my head, sprinkled some crazy juice into my mouth and BAM! I turned into a 5 year old smack dab in the middle of a tantrum.

At least, that is my excuse. Really, I was just a 28 year old full grown woman ACTING like a 5 year old in the middle of a tantrum. And there was no wicked witch to blame. That outburst was all me.

I even said this to my husband, "I don't like you." I mean, let's all point to the girl in the room who needs a nap. Could I have said anything more embarrassing? I don't like you.... I have heard more 4 year olds proclaim that to their mommy's under their breath because their mom wasn't going to cut their pb&j sandwich in half. I almost wish I would have said something worse or more mean...at least it would have meant I was beyond the stage of bedtime pull-ups.

Marriage is difficult...and when you have to deal with baby Steph, it can also be exhausting, I am sure. Marriage is the most rewarding thing, but can be the most frustrating thing at the same time. And, when I get to the bottom of my issues with it, I come to this super annoying conclusion.

I want my husband to do for me what I am not doing for him.

On my drive to work yesterday morning, for some reason, I was picturing myself on a bike ride. And my tire popped. Because I filled it up too much, of course (SIDE NOTE - I am petrified of filling anything up with air for fear of it exploding in my face).  I pictured myself calling Scott and making him drive 20 minutes to come get me and my deflated tire.

And, he totally did it.

Then, as I was marvelling at story-time Scott's quickness to come to my rescue, I thought of what my reaction would have been if his tire had popped on his lovely bike ride.

And, in the middle of watching an Oprah re-run...in my comfy pants and messy hair bun...snacking on dried fruit...ok, oreos...I would answer his call for help...and if I am honest...

be completely annoyed that I had to interupt my uber important activities to go get him.

And OUCH. My daydream instantly became my own personal Dr Phil show.

I am selfish.  Crap.  I mean, really selfish.  I remember hearing Gordy Smith say during a Marriage Matters class that marriage is NOT 50/50. It is each person giving 100. And, man, I struggle with that.

As much as I see marriage as a partnership, I fail to see it as something that I give 100% to no matter what. I want more than I am willing to give. It's not like I keep a tally in my head of how many times I have made him dinner compared to how many times he has or anything like that. That kind of stuff doesn't bother me. But, if I were completely and embarrassingly honest, I spend more time focusing on what he isn't being for me emotionally than what I am not being for him.

I am quick to let him know where he is failing on the emotional attentiveness scale. But, the second he tells me something that bothers him, I have a hard time shutting up and taking it in without thinking of valid reasons as to why I did what I did.

I heard a line in a movie the other night that hit me kind of hard. The wife asked the husband why he did something (that he soo didnt enjoy but she enjoyed)....and he said, "because it matters to you".

And of course, my first thought was, "THERE SCOTT! See?? You should compliment me and my post-baby body that I am not proud of to make me feel better about myself...not because it is true...but, because that matters to me!!! And also, please, for the love of God, TAKE ME TO A MUSICAL!"

When, I should have thought "Steph, even though you don't understand why it is so important to turn every light off in the room when you leave it or close every cabinet door when you are done...do it. Because it matters to your husband. And also, please, for the love of God, stop asking him to TAKE YOU TO A MUSICAL!"

There are a lot of things in life that seem like a constant battle...trusting God with my life and path...believing the best in people...choosing other's needs before your own...

What I am learning though, is it seems like a constant battle...because it IS. And I can't run from it. I can't spend my days imagining and skipping through the fields with a basketfull of flowers and jellybeans.

But, also, I can't go through my days thinking that my marriage could be better if my husband were better. My marriage will be better when I, again, shut up and take inventory of my own crap and start working that stuff out.

Man, for someone who loves to talk, I feel like a lot of my lessons lately have started with the phrase, "shut up..."

This could be a problem for a girl who uses all 297,879 words a day. Plus some.

a simple thank you...

I have this gift. I am super talented at it as I have spent years honing my skill. I am really really good at going to the store and buying awesome thank you cards. I mean, I can pick them. And then, what's even better, is I am really good at is getting them out to write thank you notes to people. I mean, I am a star at putting their names on the inside of the card and writing their name on the envelope. And most of the time, I can write a wicked heartfelt thank you inside the card.

But, where my talent has been mastered? Is in the department of NOT sending the cards off. I mean, if anyone is better at finishing a thank you card but never letting it leave your desk at home, I dare you to come forward. I can easily whip out a good 25 cards that are just sitting in the thank you boxes ready to go.

I would normally be proud of any talent that I can scrounge up seeing as I am married to Scott 'talent seeps out of my perfectly moisturized and never smelly skin' Zibell, but this one? Not so much.

All of that to say, I have been incredibly blessed. I feel as though my life has been a broken record for the last few years and frankly, I am surprised how many people have stayed so supportive and encouraging to me during the whole time. You would think after a year or two of it, they would steer clear of calling me, but no, the calls never ceased. And sometimes, you just need to stop and take a minute and tell them how much they mean to you.

Leah, my sis - you have never stopped acknowledging my three little ones as your nieces and nephews and though it seems like a really small token...it has been one of the most special things for me. Because even though they arent here, it hasnt made them any less family to you and because of that, it has kept them even closer to my heart. You have been a rock of support for me. It is a gift that I treasure.

Jess and Tom - Your phone calls, prayers, text messages, listening ears... Scott and I couldn't ask for better friends... You are way more than our vacation buddies... You are family. Jess, you know the saying "steel wrapped in velvet"? Well, you are velvet wrapped in steel.. The softest heart with the fiestiest mouth... My favorite thing about you.

Amy - 20 years of friendship. I can't tell you how many times I heard you say, "I'm so sorry..I don't know what to say". And I can't tell you how much those words meant to me. You are always honest and always sincere. Plus, you are pretty hilarious and just as self-depricating as me, so that always makes for a memorable time...one that somehow always gets photographed.

Calley - I feel like I have known you my whole life. You are the epitome of what a true friend looks like. You give more of yourself and so wholeheartedly. I am so fiercely protective of you and it's because I have seen how incredible your heart is. I can't count the times I have said to Scott, "She has no idea how much I have needed her friendship". And I dont think you ever will.
My small group girls, Linds, Ahndea, Theresa, Leah and Leah (and Brit!) - You are each a God-send. You have let me be so honest and so raw with my feelings. You have taken me out, let me stay in, brought me dinner, prayed your hearts out for me. You have cried with me and celebrated with me. Linds, running with you has been healing. Ahndea, singing with you has been freeing. Theresa, talking with you has been calming. You all have been God's hand extended when we wanted nothing to do with Him. And even though your words have been loud, your actions have been louder. I don't know how I would have gotten through these past few years without any of you.
Ashley, Jen, Paula, Cheryl, Sharon and Linda... For an entire year, I have been surrounded by your prayers and words of encouragement. God has used each of you to inject me with hope and faith and confidence in His goodness. I have saved every single email. I hope that I can be to someone else what you all have been to me...because it has literally changed my life.
There are many more that I am going to thank in future posts, but I have run out of lunch break time, so I have to get back to the grind....
I'll be back.

I Can Never End On A Serious Note. You'll See.

Next week, I will be married for 6 years to Scott. And on the majority of those days, I am more than happy that I married him. On other days, I want to shout from the rooftops "DONT EVER GET MARRIED!!!!".

I know, awful right? But, I can't be the only one who is madly and deeply in love with her husband but has never felt more dislike for another human being than him at times. How is it that I can grab him and kiss him and tell him that I couldn't imagine my life without him one minute and then look at him with disdain the next?

I have used my best words on him. And my worst. I have seen the best in him. And the worst. I married a boy who is turning into a man before my eyes. And turning into more of a boy before my eyes.

I love that he plays video games with his friends. I hate that he plays video games with his friends. I love that he can so easily let things roll off of his shoulders. I hate that he can so easily let things roll off of his shoulders. I love that we are at the place where romantic adventure dates are non-existent and replaced with the ease and beauty of our routine. I hate that we are at the place where romantic adventure dates are non-existent and replaced with the ease and beauty of our routine. You get my drift...

The selfish and bratty and immature and lazy side of me HATES how much work marriage takes. How much time is spent talking and arguing and discussing and apologizing and working things out. The female side of me wants to marry a woman on a strictly platonic basis just so I can have someone who cooks with me and for me and goes to rom com's and spends hours talking and trying on eachother's clothes.

But ladies, can you IMAGINE being married to us? I mean, some days I think Scott is bad...please read above and you will see how fickle I can be! "Scott, I love that you have some good friends that you get to spend time with" to "SCOTT! WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO GET OFF OF THAT $#%& XBOX AND COME UPSTAIRS AND EAT DINNER WITH YOUR WIFE WHO COOKED FOR YOU AFTER A FULL DAY OF WORK AND TWO HOUR DRIVE HOME WEARING HEELS THE WHOLE TIME AND A PONYTAIL THAT HAS NOW GIVEN HER A HEADACHE"

I mean, if I thought he was bad...

And this is the strange world of marriage. Even on our darkest days, I don't want to argue with anyone else. Even during the moments where I want to throw the pasta I cooked for him AT him, I wouldn't want to picture anyone else covered in marinara and noodles. Well, maybe our dogs only because that would be a really cute picture.

In a world where I see more and more friends separating and divorcing and cheating and hurting.... I would take my disfunctional at times, hilarious at times, heartbreaking at times, crazy at times, but always honest about it marriage.

And to my friends who are in the middle of one of those marital moments...You know, the, I would rather pull my hair out one by one than have to re-hash this issue again with you type of moment..

Please keep re-hashing. And keep working. And keep fighting. And keep loving. And whether you are laughing or crying or compromising or talking or yelling or whispering or cuddling...be ALL IN.

Just be All In.

And if it gets really rough, remember, they look pretty darn good naked.

This always helps.

Timing.

When I was a little girl, I had a crush on this little boy named Jason. He was the boy that I woke up extra early for one Sunday morning (that just happened to be Valentine's day) and snuck to the corner gas station to buy a chocolate sucker for. I remember getting ready for church and preparing in my mind the moment where I would hand him the sucker and say something awfully romantic, like "Here, I found this. Do you want it?". You know, as romantic as an 8 year old can be. But that moment never happened. Because as I was walking into the kids service, I saw my friend Heidi, who was way cuter than me and somehow already developing boobs, giving him a homemade card with a box of conversation hearts.

My timing has been bad since childhood..
From picture taking to dance moves to even my first kiss, that ended up being more of an interaction between my chin and his lips because I had no idea how fast or slow you go in for one of those things. Yes, me + timing = bad bad bad.
As an adult, I got a little bit better. I don't blink or sneeze nearly as often in pictures, I can move like nothing else if you give me some old school Michael Jackson and an empty room and I would have to say that after years of practice, I now know how to give a kiss directly on the lips.

Beyond that, I have noticed that a lot of the 'timings' of my life have been out of my control. From jobs to creating major organs to houses to starting a family. In fact, in the last two and a half years, I have completely given in to the idea that God is in control here and He is so good and loving and faithful, that it's about time I start trusting Him with every part of my life. Genius, I know. You would think after years of felt bible characters and easter services that I would have figured that out by now.
So it really should come as absolutely no surprise to me that the day after we move out of our home and into my mother's house in Beloit. And the week after we gave our leased vehicle back to the dealership with no new car to bring home due to our recent drout from the lovely garage lady (if you dont know this wonderful story...see a few posts down). And the day before we have an appointment with my kidney specialist to find out what is exactly wrong with my singular kidney and see if it is even ok to try to get pregnant. We find out that we are in fact, with child.

Well, just me. Scott still has his washboard abs. jealous. My abs? Well, let's just say I could win a beer belly contest. And while we are at it, let's also throw out there that my favorite part of the day is when I unbotton my pants. feels. so. good.
So, are you saying that this wasn't in your "plan"? Actually, yes. I am a worry wart. And knowing that I have one kidney and a blood disorder that shifts me into the high risk region of the pregnancy world, I was really prepared to never try to get pregnant again. And I was ok with that. For the most part. And gosh, it felt like with our luck...from the garage crap to the car stuff to the kidney disappearence to the 3 lost pregnancies... The timing of all of this has been SO wrong in my mind...

But now that I look back, I couldn't have painted a better picture of God's faithfulness.
And just because I know that He is faithful does not mean that I am certain of my future. Or my sweet little baby's future. But, at this point, I don't need to be. I have today to celebrate. And tomorrow can wait. No matter what happens, God is still good and his timing is better than mine could ever be.

Go Figure.

I am meeting with a new counselor next week. Her name is Gail. I hope she is better than what I am picturing a female pychiatrist by the name of Gail to be. Let's start our time off by clearing one thing up, Gail. I do not like closing my eyes and picturing serenity. I want you to yell at me and tell me what I am doing wrong and maybe slap me across my face and shake my head in your hands and say, "Get ahold of yourself woman!!". Now that would be awesome.

I have a love/hate relationship with counseling. I have never seen counseling as a bad thing or a sign that my marriage or my life are spinning wildly out of control. In fact, I love going to counseling when life is breezy and wonderful...it's when I'm the least foggiest in my selfishness. But I hate going during the times when it is "someone else's fault" because they are always the times when I realize that it is really a lot more my fault than I care to admit. See? Love it and hate it. It's like my own personal teeth flossing session. hurts so good.

See, I love Scott. But, I have a hard time letting him be him sometimes. I married him full well knowing that he was on the quiet side and that he was uncomfortably blunt with some of his conversational comebacks, just like he knew full well that I didn't enjoy cooking. (Ok, I may not have OUTRIGHT said that, but after two years of dating and only cooking frozen pizzas and macaroni, he should have picked up the hint) And we chose to marry anyways. I knew that our car rides would more than likely be silent just like he knew that the dinner table would more than likely be empty.

Here is the problemo. He loves to eat and I love to talk.

And my personal contradiction? I want him to accept all of my flaws and yet I want him to fix all of his.

People don't end up married 35 years with absolutely no relational fruit to show for it on accident. People don't start their vows with "In sickness and in health, except when I decide to cheat on you, which I will". A mother doesnt look at her newborn and say "I can't wait for the day that I abandon you and the rest of this family to go find myself". I don't know of any couple who starts their dinner conversation with, "So, in the next ten years when you and I avoid all of the issues that we have with eachother and start just living separate lives, which bedroom do you want to end up in?"

So, off to counseling I go. Because I married a man who I want to spend the rest of my life with. And I want to enjoy the rest of my life with him. And that doesn't happen by accident. There are far too many good things about Scott that I fail to recognize because I am caught up in his flaws and far too many bad things about me that I fail to recognize because I am caught up in my own needs.

Plus, have you seen my guy? If the word studmuffin ever made sense to anyone, you can insert it here. The only thing I can understand about it is maybe woman who love pastries would connect with that adjective better than had it been studtabletop. I will be safe and stick with calling him Holy Heat Wave Batman. Meaning, he is fiiiiine. and delicious.. and yummy.. ok, studmuffin does make more sense now. I mean really, look at him. I could just put him in my pocket and take him out during snacktime and eat him with a spoon.

Now, I'm just plain hungry and have completely lost my train of thought.

Oh yeah. Gail. Probably has brown short hair. Hopefully she is awesome at her job. Scott. Really excited to spend my life with him. Need to invest in books on tape. Stephanie. Can't just rely on those street smarts and beauty pageant grace. Figure out why you want to control anything and everything around you while pretending like you are laid back and surfer girlish.

Oh, and buy muffin mix. Actually, just go buy a muffin. Who needs homemade?

Let's Dance, the Last Dance Tonight

Oh Donna Summer. I didn't really know you until you were regurgitated into a dance mix for So You Think You Can Dance.... One day, my kids are going to talk about my Justin Timberlake like that. Like he hardly existed. So sad.

Tonight is the night. Our last night sleeping in our first home. Hold please, I need to go turn on some sad music to get in the mood here. Carrie Underwood? Check. Take that wheel Jesus.

So, to answer your question, yes. I'm sad. I'm nostalgic. I'm feeling a twinge of regret. So, I am going to do what any normal person would do when they are filled with all of the emotions of saying goodbye to a home that is filled with so many memories.

Rip it to pieces. That's right. It's really the only way I can justify leaving. I mean, it just makes sense.

Now I sound like an unfaithful spouse. And having said that sounds like I went to too much counseling as a child. There may not be a recovery here.

Ok. Alright '0000' East 'Blah' Parkway (to protect it from any funny business tonight of course), here's looking at you...

With your crazy gas stove that blew open the oven door when we turned you on.

And your stupid fake fireplace made of plywood that took up our entire kitchen and not even my dog believed was real.

With your stairs that made you swear off high heels.

And your gold fans that took me to the 70's.

And how about your glass door that just invited Peeping Toms to join us for dinner.

And let's not forget that annoying chipmunk that lives behind your front steps.

I'm happy to be leaving you, you lame...stupid...awful....

Well, we did replace that stove for a shiny new white one that purrs like a kitty. And we tore down that fireplace and people stopped pointing and laughing.. That railing we installed did change my thoughts on high heels...And we did replace those gold fans with ones that even Pottery Barn would be happy to invite over for dinner...And we got a new door and that glass door is in a better place now hopefully being what it was created to be. a window.... and Chip, well you are the world's friendliest chipmunk.

Well, crap.

That didn't work.

Fine.

I am going to miss you home. There. I said it. You are too darn cute to not miss. It's like Michelle from Full House.

So, lets have that Last Dance, whatd'ya say?

I suddenly have the urge to find a corner of a wall, wrap my arms...along it... and slow dance the night away.

Don't judge.

You.

I remember asking you to write letters with me to our 3 babies when we took a trip to the Dells. And you layed there on the blanket at the park in Devil's Lake. uncomfortable. wanting to be somewhere else. not because you didn't want to acknowledge them or face what we were facing. but because you and I grieve so differently. and this was a part of my grieving and not yours. but you wrote. and you let me cry. and you folded up those letters into a little envelope and let me have them.

I remember laying on the bathroom floor during our second miscarriage completely broken. a mess. i couldnt breathe enough to calm down. and you held me. the strength that you put around me. the shirt you let me soak with my tears as you soaked mine with yours.

I remember reading an email of thanks that you sent out to our friends. you wrote with a vulnerability that i didnt have the courage to write with. your words were so raw and so humble and so honest. i remember you taking my breath away. and i remember thinking, i love this man.

I remember watching you play football when we went camping right after we lost Will. I was so angry with you for making me leave the security of our dark and sad home. I wasn't ready to look anyone in the eye. wasnt ready to smile. but, we went. and i watched you play football and caught glimpses of joy in your face. caught you laughing as you dropped a ball. caught you smiling at me with a sheepish grin when you threw a perfect spiral. you reminded me that we would be ok without saying one word.

I have seen a side to you that I'm not sure I would have seen had we not lost. I have seen a depth of sadness in your eyes. I have heard desperation in your voice. I have felt the ache of emptiness in the air around you.

But, I have seen love that I could never explain. I have seen humility that still brings me to tears. I have seen a strength that I dont even think you knew that you had. I have understood the meaning of hope.

And I have been loved. truly loved by a man who had nothing to give. and yet, still gave me everything.

I know working really hard and succeeding at work... spending time with wonderful friends and family... playing weekly softball and having game nights...going on late night dates and sleeping in.... taking our dogs to the park and enjoying the sun on vacations.... this all just fills the time for you...

Because I know that as much as you love being an uncle and a great friend and an awesome son, you just want to be a dad. And although there has been no loss lately... there has still been no gain.

And I just wanted you to know that our time will come. And in the meantime, I am really sorry that you have to wait.

I think it could be incredibly cheesy and horribly lame. But, if you could put aside the late 1990's associations with this word, I am going to ask that you would...

Because I want to tell you. that you.

are my hero. and we are going to be ok.
because I have you. and you have me.

Someone Owns Your Garage. Oh, And You're Missing A Kidney. So, You Have That Going For You.

There have been many moments in my life where I have wanted to run away.

I remember when my brother Sean and I decided that it would be better to run away from home than to stay in such a terrible place where they made you eat beans and rinse your plate before you put it in the dishwasher.

So, using our amazing courage and strong sense of street wits... We took off... To the basement... Until we heard mom yell for everyone to come to the table for tacos... with no beans... which then, I grabbed my plastic bag filled with dolls and a water spray bottle (the necessity for running away) and headed upstairs wondering how my family had been handling our traumatic exit for the past five minutes. It really must have been difficult for them considering they said nothing... too painful to relive I guess.

More recently, after each miscarriage and at every baby shower in between, I have felt a strong urge to run away. This time though, I wanted to run not from the awful house rules that my mother insisted we follow, but from my present reality. I wanted to escape into a world filled with fort building and make believe and piggy banks filled with pennies and tootsie roll wrappers (I cant be the only one who thought it was fun to flatten crushed up candy wrappers and put them in anything available as a kid).

Even closer to the current date and time, we had a wonderful deal going on. That deal being the selling and closing of our house. Most of you heard us talk about how quickly it happened and the hustle and bustle of packing and cleaning and preparing and house hunting and blah blah blah. In fact, today, we were supposed to close. Actually, right about now. This past weekend, we were supposed to move out. Our house was (and still is) completely packed. We got our P.O. Box for the forwarding address, the bills have been cancelled, the storage unit rented, the moving truck ready and then we find out THIS nugget of truth.

You dont own your garage. In fact, you dont own 1/4 of your yard. And crazy enough, you never have. Years before you bought your house, someone made a huge error and only transferred a portion of the property to the new owners circa 2000. And long story short, somebody else, somebody slightly evil bought that forgotten piece of land for a small price knowing that someone will have to buy it back from her, at which point she will want a really big price.

So, I have found myself wanting to run away again. And this time, from my own house. No rules or evil mothers to make you clean up after yourself. I want to run away from the fact that no matter which way you spin it, we are going to be in a pretty large amount of debt in order to pay this woman for the land that WE LIVE ON. Thank GOD the buyers are being so patient and letting us try and figure this out, so we can still close on the house and move in the near future. It's just now, we get to pay a shady woman for our garage and a portion of our kitchen and then live with my mother so we can pay off the debt we will incure and also save back up for the down payment we lose since all of our money will now go to her...and lawyer fees... Yes, running away has been on my mind.

And yesterday, I got some more news that made me want to run away. Except this time, I want to unzip my skin and escape my body. Run as far away as my little exposed skeleton and muscle will allow.

A. You have a slightly sick right kidney and B. You seem to be missing your left kidney.

Yes. You heard me right. Missing. Gone. Never been. Apparently, I was born without a left kidney. Who does that? Who just doesnt HAVE a kidney. Me, I guess. Is it weird that even though I have never had one, I suddenly miss it.

I have a CAT scan soon to see just how sick my right kidney is...hopefully, it is just "needs some chicken soup and a good night sleep" sick so we can get back to normal...which is a debateable term in the Zibell house.

I find out Monday if I can actually run away. Meaning, run in the marathon that I have spent the last 5 months preparing for. Apparantly, running for 5 hours at a time isnt the best thing for your body....and maybe not so great when you have one kidney that isnt up to par, persay. But, my doctor will tell me Monday. And until then, I am pretending that none of this is happening...because, well, I just dont want to go there yet.

The irony of all of this is that my first instinct when the going gets....strange...and bad...and frustrating... is to run is now the one thing that I may no longer be allowed to do.

So. If you see me in the near future tearing down our garage (because hey, if I can't have it...neither can this mean old lady), or if you see a jar at a gas station for a fundraiser that says "Segway for Stephanie!", please know that these may be my new versions of "running away"... and don't be alarmed, just make me some tacos with no beans, help me build my fort and offer me a piggy back ride....for 26.2 miles. I promise, it won't be that bad.

What I Meant to Say Was...

I'm surrounded by love. Yet, I struggle accepting love.

So, when Scott looks at me and says I am sorry. And I look at him and say, I dont believe you. What I mean to say is, I dont believe that I am deserving of somebody to want to be better for me.

When I say, I want to be alone. I mean to say, I need to collapse and I don't want to bother you with my collapsing.

I am realizing more and more how hard it is for me to fully accept love from others.

I notice when I get slightly frustrated when people ask me how I am doing. And I am not frustrated with them. I am frustrated that I need them. I am frustrated that I might have to depend on someone other then myself and God.

I notice when I argue with Scott and he puts his arms around me, I stiffen. Not because I am mad at him. But, because I am trying to push the lump back down my throat and pretend like his love isn't unconditional towards me.

Something inside of me sees love and wants to run in the other direction because love means that you will be inconvenienced. And I, personally, love the inconvenience of it. The "I'm coming over to your house" or the "I need to talk right now". I love to love others. But, I am very uncomfortable with someone, especially Scott at times, loving me. Someone being inconvenienced for me.

I am an independent woman and I have always taken great pride in that. But, the more and more I search, I am seeing that much of my independence is a guard. It keeps you, my family, my friends, my husband from having to take care of me.

It keeps you from having to take care of me. man, there it is. I am afraid that if I ask, you won't want to.

As embarrassing and humiliating as it is for me to even think it. When I say, I'm fine. I'll be fine. I don't need anything. I'm 27 and can take care of myself. I'll get through it. People have it much worse, etc...

What I mean to say is, I want someone to take care of me and I'm afraid that you won't want to.