Accepting help

I don't accept help well. I also don't ask for help. I don't know what it is but I am not comfortable with it. Sometimes it's just easier to do it myself, sometimes I guess I feel like I have to prove that I can do it myself.

This time though I am way out of my league. I am overwhelmed. Yet still, unless there is something very specific, I can't ask for help.

I am however, learning to accept what is offered. The meals made for us by my work family are so unbelievably generous. The time it is saving me is one thing but mentally, I get a break. I don't have to sit and stare in the fridge trying to figure out what I can slap together and call a meal.
The gift cards are also much appreciated. Knowing that people are thinking about me and the family means so much. The thoughtful gestures make me smile.
I have shoulders to cry on, people who ignore me when my "filter" is off, people who let me snap and know that I don't always mean my attitude to be directed towards them, people who rearrange their schedules to get my kids or take them for a night, people who skip out on their responsibilities when they sense I'm on the verge of panic, people who don't judge when I have to get things off my mind, and people who understand when I have to skip out on something because my anxiety has won.
All of this despite the fact that I have kept so much private. Nobody wants to hear my misery every day. Nobody wants to hear how bad things have gotten. Nobody wants to hear how incredibly sad I am, how sad and frustrated Chris is. To be honest, I don't generally want to talk about it. It makes it more real. Or I get advice on what might help. Or I get some idiot who doesn't know shit telling me what I should do.
I am doing my best - and it's possible with the people who are actually present. Thank you.