Family

If there's one thing that's true about my family, it's that we don't know how to ask for help.

Not me, not my brother, not my mom, not my dad.

It is probably pride. Or I don't know... some sort of asian reticence?

I've told this story to a couple of people, but when I was younger (oh I don't know, maybe 3rd grade? definitely something in elementary), I wouldn't accept anything unless it was offered three times. Do you want a fry? Casually offered like any 10 year old might to their friend.
No thank you.
But in my head, I really did want one. 
Are you sure?
Yes, thanks.
One more time, ask me one more time please.
And that was the end. I ended up not getting a fry that day. I don't know why I remember that particular scene in my life. But I do. Pretty darn clearly too.

In high school, I tried not to answer real questions about myself unless it was asked three times. (I don't know why three. Just because?) Because that's when you knew they really wanted to know.

I don't know where this philosophy came from. Certainly nobody ever told it to me. And I'll ask for a fry if I want one now (maybe). I'll answer questions now too (if you ask twice maybe lol).

And I guess this is why I just don't trust anyone's first answer to my questions.

But my family is so bad at asking and accepting things. Or maybe it's that we just don't know what kind of help we should be asking for. That old adage of not knowing what you really need.

I just need to be more perceptive. And more preemptive.