I haven’t talked to a therapist since my son got home from the hospital weeks ago after a series of big procedures. His surgeon called one of them “horrendous.” Talk about a loaded word. My brain and heart have a lot to unpack, but I’ve put seeking therapy on the back burner. You would think that after all the weekly blubbering I do on this site, I’d take my own advice! But here I am, too stubborn or lazy or freaked out to get assistance.

Help is a rare and beautiful thing, whether we give to our friends, or ourselves.

Before we get into more specific lessons on some of life’s worst moments, let’s explore the very idea of saying “Uh oh, I need help.” We’ve talked about finding the will to give help, but willingly receiving it is a different matter.

Here’s why help is so hard to ask for, and so satisfying to give.

It’s embarrassing.

We all want to be strong and perfect, as if that’s something anyone can ever be. We ALL need help at some point, but admitting that can make us feel incompetent, or inferior. Some of us are just better at hiding or avoiding it. If our real friend needs help, we likely won’t judge them, and yet we think everyone will judge us. During my family’s last hospital tour, I opened up to old high school friends and was blown away by the enthusiastic support they returned. I hadn’t been consistent in updating them on my son’s progress before then, and they were eager to get involved in his story. Including them was a bit embarrassing at first, but worth it. Instead of keeping up a façade, I let them in, and now we’re all a little closer as a result.

It’s tough to trust people.

The harsh truth is we might not think our friends are capable of helping us. There are only a handful of people I’d trust with my son’s medical maintenance. Not because I don’t love them, or think they truly care, but because there are a thousand things that could go wrong. As the person asking for help, it’s my responsibility to be clear about our wants and needs, so that my friends don’t have to take risks or make assumptions. If it feels like your friend doesn’t trust you, that can sting, but it’s just a side effect of them wanting to protect themselves.

We don’t want to bother anyone.

I think there’s a massive shared belief in our society that everyone wants to be left alone, and when it comes to creepy strangers and persistent telemarketers, it’s true. We definitely value our independence as a species (though even strangers want to connect), but among close friends, we still innately want to know if the people we love are facing hard times, whether we’re capable of helping them or not.

The first step should be letting our immediate social circle know something is wrong. It’s up to them if they have the capacity to help. On the flipside, it never hurts to ask a friend if they’re okay. Just don’t be annoying about it if they have trouble answering.

Solitude mitigates the emotional damage.

If we bring our friends into our sad situation, they’re going to be sad too, right? Maybe. But they could also feel relief at finally understanding our recent behavior. Or they could find an unexpected rush of satisfaction coming to a friend’s aide, especially if their life experience gives them an edge in sharing wisdom or finding answers. Making a positive impact on our lives could easily benefit theirs in return. Someone in an emergency doesn’t need to predict or manage their friend’s motivations. Let them work that out on their own time.

Whatever radar we all use to detect how many people are willing to help us is defective. There are more people who have your back than you probably realize. So when a friend summons the courage to ask for help, remember how hard it was for you to do that the last time you had no other choice. Maybe that memory will put an extra skip in your step when you rush to your friend’s side, roll up your sleeves, and get to work making their troubles go away.

An audio version of this post is available below for paid subscribers.

Free Sample