Someone offers to help you.
Your answer?
“I've got it!”
Did you even stop to check whether you actually have it?
Of course not. They barely finished the sentence.
I mean, how many times have we said I've got it while actively carrying too much?
Can you handle this? Yep.
Do you need help? Nope.
Want me to take something off your plate? No, no, we're good!
Are we, though?
Because at some point we're just rearranging everything on the plate so we can technically say nothing fell off.
The funny thing is, most of us don't think twice about helping someone else. If a friend calls and says she's overwhelmed, you don't think, Wow. She really needs to get her life together.
You say, “What do you need?”
If you can pick something up for her, take her kid somewhere, look over something she's working on or just let her unload for twenty minutes, you do it.
We don't see her differently for needing help.
So why does it feel different when we're the ones who need it?
I think that's especially true when you're used to being the capable one. People count on you. You figure things out. You handle things. I like being that person, and there's nothing wrong with that.
But somewhere along the way, I'm capable can quietly turn into I should be able to handle all of this myself.
And those are two very different things.
There are plenty of things we can do alone. I can also carry every grocery bag into the house in one trip while losing circulation in three fingers because going back to the car would apparently be admitting defeat.
Doesn't mean I should.
Although I'm still going to try.
But I think we do the same thing with bigger stuff. We research it ourselves. Figure it out ourselves. Work through it ourselves. We tell ourselves we'll ask for help if we really need it.
Which apparently means we need to reach some completely undefined level of struggling first.
Sometimes figuring it out on your own is fine. But sometimes you've been staring at the same problem for so long that you can't see it clearly anymore.
Someone else can.
They might know something you don't, or they might have already made the mistake you're about to make. They might hear the story you've been telling yourself for six months and finally say, “Okay, but have you considered that maybe that's not actually true?”
Rude. Also helpful.
And sometimes they don't have some brilliant insight at all. They just take one thing off your plate so you finally have enough room to think again.
I used to think about support more like rescue. If I need somebody else to step in, then apparently I couldn't handle it.
But that's really not what good support looks like.
A coach doesn't run the race for you. A friend doesn't make every decision for you. A mentor doesn't do the work for you.
They're just in it with you.
And I think that's part of what can make accepting help harder than giving it. Letting someone help means letting them see that you don't currently have every single thing handled.
You may actually have to say, “I don't know.” Or “I'm overwhelmed.” Or the one that can feel surprisingly difficult: “I need help.”
None of those sentences should be that dramatic.
And yet...
If you're used to being the one people come to, being the one who needs something can feel surprisingly vulnerable.
I think we can even do this in our faith communities. We love community. We believe in supporting each other. We'll show up, serve, help and pray for everybody else.
Then somebody turns around and says, “How can I help you?”
Oh no, I'm good!
Apparently community was for everyone else.
But Scripture doesn't really give us a picture of strength that looks like needing nobody. It's full of people carrying things together, teaching one another, encouraging one another, praying for one another and stepping in when someone else couldn't carry the whole thing alone.
Even Jesus didn't live His earthly life in isolation.
So where did we get the idea that becoming stronger means eventually needing less from everyone?
I'm not sure that's strength. And I'm definitely not sure that's the kind of life I want.
I still like being capable. I still like figuring things out. And yes, sometimes doing it myself really is faster.
But faster isn't always the point.
Sometimes the conversation you would've skipped because you could technically figure it out yourself is the thing that changes how you see it. Sometimes accepting help gives somebody else the chance to show up for you the way you've shown up for them. Sometimes you just need another person sitting beside you saying, “Okay. Let's figure this out.”
That's not someone doing your life for you.
That's relationship.
So the next time someone offers to help, you don't have to automatically say yes. Just notice if I've got it comes flying out of your mouth before you've even considered the question.
You may actually have it.
But that doesn't mean you always have to carry it alone.
Want to keep going with this conversation?
🎧 Listen to Episode 41: Why Growth Happens Faster When You Stop Doing It Alone →