A couple of things blended in my mind today, and formed an interesting subject for a wordy post, long overdue.

I've been asking questions all my life - and rarely got the answer I was looking for. I did get awkward looks, especially when I was younger, because I had a knack for asking just the type of questions nobody wanted to answer. Perhaps this comes with the territory of being highly sensitive, I don't know. Or perhaps my family lacked the patience and enthusiasm to deal with my inquisitive mind.

As I grew older, I learned not to look to other people for answers, favours, and a shoulder to cry on. This was instilled in me at a very early age, I think. My mother was a tough cookie, dealing with hardship by curbing her feelings and focusing on practical stuff. My father was seriously ill for many years (cancer), and then he died. My siblings were on a whole other page. And I was the emotional counterweight, silently asking but never expecting.

Asking, but not expecting. Remember that phrase. It tells you the pattern of my life.

I met Top1, we got together and that helped, though this relationship has brought on a whole new series of questions. When Top3 and Top4 came along, my world turned upside down. I had not expected to find such quantities of pure, unadulterated love, an emotion not mingled with contempt. Because I had been so absorbed with my own silent questions all the time, I had not noticed that there are many different worlds out there. Worlds with fun family life in it, with unforeseen pleasures, with attention being given without the asking. Marvellous!

Then Top1 turned ill (Lyme's Disease, as you probably all know by now). And a new layer of questions unfolded in my life. What I had witnessed as a child (namely, that some people look away when they encounter a family in distress), I now witnessed as an adult. Doctors looked away, acquaintances looked away, some because they didn't care, some because they honestly didn't know how to help. At the same time, I did not know what to ask for. I had dealt with this type of situation before, silently, so obviously, I could do that again.

I did. It nearly killed me (not literally, but emotionally.) Working full-time as a translator, deep in the trenches of DIY on this house, with a sick partner who could barely make it through the day, two very bright and very upset little children, no family nearby, few opportunities to escape the house and a head full of images and words, I felt utterly alone, even though we have very supportive friends and relatives. The questions piled high. Slowly, I learned to turn inwards for answers.

To my surprise, that proved not too difficult. Most people seem to have a hard time sitting quietly, observing, waiting for an answer from within. I did not. I finally set up my studio, and answers came readily. My spirit soared.

I'm not saying this to be smug, because here's the deal: Though looking for answers within comes naturally to me, I still have a hard time asking other people for help or support. Sure, Top1's health has improved, but he'll never be 100% again. He's out of work, receives no benefits and is struggling to make a success out of his various treasure-filled webshops. My translation business is slow, with a few pick-me-ups now and then.

To top this all off, I've come up with a new way to smack my head into a wall of questions, writing a delicate and very personal novel I'd really like to publish when it's done. (Not to mention the fact that it breaks my heart to have a storage space full of paintings and drawings and so on, going nowhere.)

And then today, Roos, a young woman facing severe adversity with her ill husband (cancer) and small children, asked for financial support on her blog (or actually, a friend of her did, but she allowed it). I'm pretty sure she had to overcome some reservations in order to do that, but she did. She took a deep breath and asked. People welcomed her question, and supported her.

I admired her guts, and at the same time I was flabbergasted. This is it? You just ask? And then they help, no strings attached? People actually do that?

Oh my. I'm 38, dear friends. I've seen this type of appeal before, but it never hit home. Apparently, I've got a heck of a lot to learn...

(Now go here to support her if you want. The Dutch cancer association had a big fundraiser on tv the other week, which annoyed the hell out of me, because these organisations tend to be very ineffective and their appeals are gushing with Guilt Factor. Donating to Roos seems to me to be a very practical way to help, and her appeal is straightforward: "I'm flooded with medical bills. Could you spare a few bucks?")