Asking for Help: A Practice of Compassion and Resistance
“I should be able to do this on my own.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Other people have it worse.”
“I’ll just wait until it gets really bad.”
Do any of these phrases sound familiar?
These are some of the most common beliefs I hear from clients—and ones I’ve wrestled with myself. For many of us living with chronic illness, asking for help feels far more complex than it sounds.
As a health psychologist and as someone with lived experience, I’ve learned that needing help doesn’t mean you're weak or failing. But unlearning that—really believing it—is an ongoing process. One that involves working through deeply ingrained messages about independence, worth, and what it means to take up space with our needs.
Why It’s So Hard to Ask for Help
There are many reasons people hesitate to reach out for support. Here are just a few common ones:
Fear of being a burden: The worry that our needs will inconvenience or overwhelm others.
Internalized ableism: Believing that needing help is a personal failure, rather than a natural part of being human.
Cultural/family values: Growing up with messages that praised independence and minimized vulnerability.
Past experiences: Times we did ask for help and were met with dismissal, shame, or unkindness.
Lack of access: Sometimes the issue isn’t reluctance, but a lack of safe and reliable support networks.
Why Asking for Help Matters
Despite the discomfort, building support systems can be deeply healing. Choosing to ask for help—when it's hard, when you’ve been taught not to—can be an act of compassion and quiet resistance.
In therapy, we often explore what it might look like to:
Identify your actual needs (emotional, physical, logistical)
Notice the stories that come up around asking
Practice asking in small, manageable ways
Reflect on what kind of support feels helpful vs. draining
Sometimes we role-play conversations. Sometimes we write out scripts. Sometimes we just sit in the complexity of it all.
Receiving help is also a practice—of allowing yourself to be seen, of surrendering control, of letting people show up for you.
A Personal Note
This comes up all the time in my clinical work, but it also shows up in my personal life, especially during seasons of change, illness flare-ups, or emotional exhaustion. I don’t have this all figured out. But I’ve learned to pause, to listen to the part of me that believes I should do it all alone, and to gently challenge it.
Not every request will be met with ease or understanding, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong to ask.
When we choose to rely on each other, even imperfectly, we’re building something radical: a life rooted in interdependence, not isolation.
If this resonates with you, I invite you to:
Reflect on one belief you hold about asking for help
Consider one small way you might challenge that belief this week
Share this post with someone who might need the reminder
Thanks for being here.
-Sam