By Judie Donaldson

Are you among the many who suffer from the “I-can–do –it­­–myself” disease? I am, and I am so ridiculously tenacious about it that I make a fool out of myself.  Just ask my friends and family members.
Carquinez Village has learned all about this behavior pattern during our first year of service. It’s been a source of frustration for us. You may know that one of our primary purposes is to offer support services to our members. We provide a wide portfolio of possibilities, from having someone run errands for you when you’re not feeling well to having a volunteer repair a leaky faucet to having a bookkeeper assist you with strategies for managing your money.
And, imagine this. There is no limit to the number of services that members can receive! They’re all covered by an individual’s member dues. It’s fabulous, or at least that’s the idea. But, guess what we’ve learned? There are a whole bunch of “I–can–do–it–myself” members who don’t like to ask for help. Even when we’re offering it, so to speak, on a silver platter. It’s amazing.
It’s particularly amazing when you realize that, according to psychologists, this personality trait ranks among those that contribute to feelings of unhappiness. So, why do I––and others––cling to a behavior that is, dare I say, foolish?  I’ve developed my own philosophy about this. I believe that as we grow up, we develop behavior patterns and habits, some of which are helpful to our well-being as adults and some of which aren’t. If we’re smart, we work to let go of those that don’t contribute to our happiness.
I feel pleased that I have purged a number of my unhealthy habits, but I obviously haven’t cracked the nut of my determination not to accept help. However, Carquinez Village is enabling me to make some progress.   Let me tell you about my experience. I joined the Village when it formed even though I didn’t need any services. In fact, I couldn’t imagine ever requesting a service. And then one day I found myself looking at the world differently.
What happened? Something simple. My porch light, which is situated high up under the porch roof, burned out. As I was about to retrieve my ladder from the garage, I reluctantly considered the thought that it probably wasn’t wisdom for someone with Parkinson’s Disease to be climbing a tall ladder and, while at the top, attempting to negotiate the machinations to replace the light bulb. I should add that, on a scale of 1 to 10, I’m a zero when it comes to mechanical acumen. This even applies to changing a light bulb like the one on the porch.
I knew that this was a dilemma I needed to face. And so, I had a painfully serious meeting with myself.  I challenged my    “I–can–do–it–myself” kid to grow up, act smart, and, for gosh sakes, call the Village for help. It took a little verbal arm wrestling, but after metaphorically stamping my feet, I did just that. I called the Village. That was three months ago, and I am still awed by the significance of the experience.
What happened?  A  couple of days after I called, a handywoman from the Village rang my doorbell, assessed the lay of the land, and with easy aplomb, climbed the ladder and replaced my light bulb in a matter of minutes. In doing so, she taught me a lesson––of what a gift it is to receive, and how beautiful it was to have a complete stranger arrive at my house to help me. I will never forget this. Really. It’s one of the most significant gifts I have ever received. Of course, it wouldn’t have happened at all unless I had asked for help.
Will this experience open the door to a change in my behavior? Therein lies the big question. Someone, I can’t recall whom, once said, “We don’t learn from our experience. We only learn from what we learn.” That’s wisdom, for sure. So, can I learn––and change––from this experience? I’m such as heck going to try.
At Carquinez Village, we need to experiment with some new strategies to encourage our members to take advantage of the services that we offer. I confess that I have tried cajoling members by telling them that our volunteers will get frustrated if they aren’t kept busy. Which is true. But, it’s not quite doing the trick. That nasty “I–can–do–it–myself” disease is a stubborn one. If you’re a member, maybe you can learn from my “light bulb” experience and put in a request for a service yourself.    Just think. Maybe one of our Village benefits will be to help you break free of an unhelpful habit. I dare you to let go­ just one time––or, well, just a little. Change can happen in unexpected ways.    Who wants to be unhappy, anyway?

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