Giving help can feel incredible. We love knowing we made a difference. But why does asking for help so often feel like failure?

I used to believe I should handle everything on my own. When I had been married about eight years, I was pregnant and found out my husband was cheating. We lived far from family. I worked full-time. I didn’t know where I would go or what life would look like when my son was born. I felt like I had to be strong, and strong meant doing it alone.

This is not a story about an affair. It is a story about help and kindness.

Our neighbors across the street, I’m going to call them, Sandy and Sam, were raising two adopted siblings. They were the kind of people who show up with warmth and make you feel welcome. Sandy and I hung out when time allowed. She became a friend during a very rough time in my life.

One day, she came over to check on me. Pregnancy has a way of showing the truth on the surface, especially when everything is falling apart. I could no longer hide the things I was experiencing. She listened. She was far more shaken by my story than I expected, and later I learned why.

When Sam was a little boy, his mother discovered her husband was cheating. She died by suicide in their garage shortly after. She was found by Sam’s brother. Hearing my story was very painful for them, and I could see worry and fear in their eyes. It must have felt like history was trying to repeat itself. I felt for Sam because I must be like a walking version of the threat of danger and a repeat of his history.

Weeks later, after my son was born, I decided to leave. To go to my mom’s house with my son until I could figure things out. The drive would take eleven hours with a newborn. My husband refused to come. Although I did not want him there, the idea of doing it alone felt overwhelming.

I told Sandy my plan. She did not hesitate. She said, “You are not driving that far by yourself with a baby.” She and Sam decided she would ride with me and then fly home. They paid for her flight. They handled the logistics. They just made it happen.

I insisted more than once that I could do it alone. Every time, Sandy smiled and said, “I am coming.” I felt like I “should” be doing this without help, like I should be strong enough. Sandy remained steadfast.

She sat in the backseat with my little one while I drove and we switched when I needed rest. When we got to my mom’s, she stayed one night, hugged me tight, and then headed home on her flight.

Sandy helped me learn an important truth. Receiving help does not make you helpless. It makes you human.

I had always loved helping others. I enjoyed the feeling of making someone’s load lighter. I did not realize that I was refusing to let others experience that same feeling with me. I didn’t know how much I was forcing myself to “do it alone.” I felt shamed and weak if I couldn’t do it alone.

Sandy helped me lower my walls. She taught me that strength is not measured by the ability to do everyone on your own. She taught me that letting others support us is not weakness. It can be courageous. Sometimes help is something we need. It’s ok to accept it.

We never truly know what someone else is going through. At work, at home, and in the places no one sees, we are all navigating something.

It is okay to need help.
It is okay to accept help.
It is okay to be the helper.
It is okay to be both.

Sandy gave, and continues to give, me the gift of these lessons. Thank you, Sandy for your love and kindness. I know she’s not alone. So many of you are this helper for others. We live in a world full of them.

What is one thing you can let someone help you with this week? You deserve support. Let someone care for you the way you care for others.

988 Lifeline – If you need emotional support, reach out to the national mental health hotline: 988.