When my insomnia got so bad that I could barely function my friends and neighbors repeatedly asked if they could help me. I couldn't figure out why I couldn't let them. I thought perhaps it was just pride. Tonight I figured it out. Life has taught me that people rarely want to help you and when they do they fail to mention the catch. When I've been stupid enough to accept help there is always someone in my life telling me have to accept the abuse that came with the help and be grateful. My grandmother's voice is still in my head reminding me how worthless I am. When my relative invited us to stay with them they failed to mention it included my becoming a live-in nanny. Someone outside the situation suggested I now owe the people I'm staying with and should be taking care of all the housekeeping and meals. Turns out I've been accepting servitude when I thought I was being offered an entirely different deal. Accepting help is like making a deal with the devil and the demons in my life call themselves family. No wonder I'm so bitter and untrusting.