Asking for help is a privilege not a right. Many people would have nowhere to turn if they needed assistance making asking for it in the first place pretty pointless. It is a life rattling experience when you realize that asking for help won't do you any good. Ask all you want, but help won't come. When this realization hit me for the first time, it hit hard. I began to see the consequences of finally saying no to a family that had always heard yes. All the support you thought you had in life disappears and you are left with the realization that nobody loves you unconditionally; nobody will be there to pick you up when you fall down.
A few months into my stay in Chile, my dad returned home. His job in St. Louis hadn't worked out as he had planned and when he was denied every credit card that he had applied for, he had no other option than to return home. Of course, my mom took him back forgiving everything he had done hoping that this time he had changed. This left me as the only one who had betrayed him. According to him, I had turned my back on him when he walked out on us. Even though he had only written me once that year, it was my fault for not reaching out and trying to communicate with him while he was in Missouri. My dad can take back any small token of love he had given so fast that you are left wondering if you had imagined receiving it in the first place. I worked so hard to earn his approval and as it vanished behind his stoic discontent, it left nothing but a cold hollow wake on my heart.
Four months into my stay in Chile, my health began to diminish. I believe that one's physical well being is directly related to one's mental well being, and my mental unrest was beginning to catch up to me. As I became more settled in Chile, the thoughts of my past started to creep up to haunt me, and my health took a turn for the worse. It began as a slight cold that slowly progressed into pneumonia. Fatigue consumed me and prevented me from partaking in any of my daily activities. I had to abandon my mountaineering club, my private lessons and teaching. I was in and out of Chilean clinics getting inhalers, antibiotics and cough syrups, but nothing was helping. The intense pollution and unheated buildings worsened my condition, but I believe my aching heart was the true culprit.
This went on for a month before I could not take another day. I had to get help. By this point, I had been unable to work for over two weeks which stopped my income, and most of my savings had been spent on doctor's visits and medications. My ticket home was not for another six months and it was a nonrefundable unchangeable ticket. My only option was to buy a new one which would cost $900. At this point, I only had about $100 to my name. When I called my mom for help, she told me that my dad had come home and that he would not allow her to help me get home. He refused to help me because I had betrayed him; I had taken my mom's side when he left. My mom made no argument and hung up on me not wanting to disobey her husband.
I got a credit card and put my whole ticket on it. As I was flying home $1,000 in debt, fighting off my progressing pneumonia, I realized that I was completely alone. Nobody was looking out for my best interest. My mom, who I had supported as she rebuilt her life three different times after my dad had shattered it, refused to help me because my dad had asked her not to.
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