Faxing out my defeat

When we first made the decision to move, I had planned on just renting a moving truck and having my parents come down to assist with loading the vehicle.  I knew it would be a lot of work packing while working, but I knew I would find a way to get it done. 

This past summer when my mom was visiting, my dad got on the phone and told me that he was paying for movers to move me.  He explained that he would lose quite a bit of money by taking off a week of work, and knew that it would be hard for me to do all of this on my own.  For most people, they would be jumping up and down cheering, screaming, and just plain ecstatic.  I, though, am very far from normal.  I was crying because I felt defeated.  I hate, hate, HATE asking for help and have an even harder time accepting help, especially from my parents.  I feel that my parents have done their job already and I shouldn't have to ask or need their assistance any more.  So, when my dad offered these services, I tried to turn down his offer over and over again - because I knew there was no way we could afford to help out with the cost of movers.  I felt, and still feel, as if I am failing them.  Their daughter is losing those attributes that they worked so hard to instill in her.  Who am I becoming?   

All of these feelings have come to the forefront as I have just signed my name to a contract with a moving company.  As I get ready to fax over the contract I feel as if I'm rolling over and allowing life to take over and consume me.  I have been defeated.