For most of my life, asking for help made me uncomfortable. I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone. I didn’t want to be seen as incapable. And deep down, I didn’t want to admit I needed anything from anyone.

The irony? I’ve always done everything for everyone else—without blinking an eye. I give my time, energy, and heart freely. I show up. I support. I hold space. But when it comes to accepting that same support in return, I freeze up. I deflect. I act like I’ve got it all handled.

Even with my family, I held back. I could be hurting, overwhelmed, or barely keeping it together—and still, I’d push through alone. It wasn’t pride so much as protection: a way of telling myself I was strong, in control, and low-maintenance.

But yesterday, my dad called me, and something shifted. He said, “You’ve always been like this. You don’t like asking for help. I’ve always been the same. But we both need to be better about it.”

That comment stayed with me. Because for the first time, I saw that this wasn’t just my struggle—it was a pattern. A quiet legacy passed down through generations, where needing help somehow got tangled up with shame. Where strength meant silence. Where love didn’t always mean support, because no one knew how to ask for it.

What I’ve noticed as I’ve started to shift this?
People are actually happy when I ask for help.
They light up. They lean in. They offer more than I expected.
It was never the burden I feared.
Just like I feel joy helping others, they feel joy helping me. It’s part of being human—it’s in our biology. We’re wired for connection, for mutual care, for community. I just had to give people the chance.

And here’s what I’ve learned:
Asking for help is not a weakness—it’s a powerful act of trust.
It says, “I matter too.”
It opens doors to deeper relationships, softer moments, and healing—not just for me, but for those around me.

If you’re someone who gives endlessly but struggles to receive—this is your reminder:
You are not a burden. You are not too much.
You deserve support, too.
You don’t have to carry it all alone.
Not anymore.

With love and faith,
Z