When Asking For Help Was The Glimmer You Needed

 For as long as I can remember, I wore my stubbornness like a badge of honour. I told myself it was resilience, strength, self-reliance. I didn’t want to be a burden, and I certainly didn’t want anyone to see me struggling. To ask for help? That felt like admitting defeat, like exposing a weakness I couldn’t let anyone see. 

So, I didn’t ask; I carried the weight of my worries and challenges quietly, telling myself I could handle it - should handle it - on my own. I told myself that needing help was a weakness. That if I was strong enough, I wouldn’t have to ask. That had been instilled in me.

But life has a way of challenging the stories we tell ourselves and rolling them on their head…

When I lost my dog, Duke, it was like a piece of my heart had been torn away. He wasn’t just a dog; he was my companion, my comfort, my little slice of joy in the world - you’ve heard me bang on about him, but it’s true. On top of the heartbreak of losing him, I was left with his vet fees - unexpected costs that added an overwhelming financial burden to an already impossible time.

I didn’t want to ask for help. It felt like I should be able to figure it out. Like I had to be able to figure it out. But I couldn’t. Not this time. It upset me reading comments about the fact I “owned my house so should be able to afford it” and “didn’t you have him insured?!” (Yes by the way.)

When I finally did open up, it felt embarrassing - like I was exposing my weaknesses to the world, laying bare all the parts of myself I’d fought so hard to keep hidden. But the response I got wasn’t judgment. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t a reminder of my shortcomings.

It was kindness. Pure, honest, heart-warming kindness.

People showed up. They offered words of comfort, shared stories of their own grief, helped in practical ways with the fees I couldn’t cover on my own. They wrapped me in a safety net I didn’t even know existed, and I realised how much people truly care - how much they’re willing to give, even when they don’t fully know the weight of what you’re carrying.

Their willingness to help, without expecting anything in return, was humbling. They didn’t see me as weak. They saw me as human. And through their kindness, I started to see it too.

It turns out, asking for help doesn’t diminish your strength, it reveals it. It builds bridges; it deepens connections; it reminds us that we’re not meant to carry life’s burdens alone.

Looking back, I realise that the embarrassment I felt was born from a fear of vulnerability. But what I found on the other side of that fear was something extraordinary: a reminder that people are good, that they care more than we sometimes give them credit for, and that they want to help more than we can ever imagine.

Their kindness has lifted a huge weight off my shoulders; at a time when I’ve been carrying far too much. On top of losing Duke, life has been throwing all sorts of challenges my way, and this support has made a difference in ways I can’t fully put into words. It’s been a lifeline when everything else has felt like too much - I’ve felt so unsettled, unhinged and lost, yet this mass of crazy kindness has empowered me.

To everyone who’s been part of that kindness - thank you. You’ve helped more than you’ll ever know.

So, if you’re like me - stubborn, proud, maybe a little scared to reach out - let me tell you this: Asking for help doesn’t make you weak, it makes you courageous; it opens the door to kindness, connection, and the quiet but powerful truth that we’re all stronger together than we could ever be alone.

And if you’ve ever been on the other side of that equation - offering help when someone finally asks- thank you. You’re a reminder that kindness always prevails, even when we least expect it.

Let’s keep reminding each other.

Thank you VERY fucking much… this has humbled me so much.