A woman I know recently told me a story that stayed with her.
Her partner’s 18-year-old daughter was coming to visit for the weekend, and it would be the first time she was hosting her. At the same time, her home was partially under construction, making the situation a bit complicated. So she reached out to a close friend of more than 30 years—someone who lives just two doors down—and asked if the girl could stay in her backhouse for two nights. It was a simple setup: a detached space with its own entrance. She even offered to cover the cost and arrange for a cleaning service.
Her friend said no.
What surprised her most wasn’t just the answer, it was the reason. “We don’t know her,” her friend explained. “We’re just not comfortable.”
“I don’t know why this affected me so much,” she told me. “I know I’m not entitled to anyone’s help. But I felt… really disappointed. It didn’t seem like an unreasonable ask, and it’s the kind of thing I would do without hesitation for someone I love.”
There was no real conflict here. No one did anything inherently wrong. People are allowed to say no. And yet, something about the exchange revealed a deeper truth: so many of us are willing to share—but only when it’s comfortable. That line between capability and willingness is where we falter.
Why?
We are taught, in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, that independence is the ultimate goal. To be strong means to be self-sufficient. To be capable means to need no one. To succeed means to handle everything on our own. And while there is value in resilience and personal responsibility, many of us have taken this idea too far—mistaking isolation for strength and self-reliance for wholeness.
But what if the very belief that we should be able to do everything alone is the thing preventing us from experiencing true connection and contentment?
Most of us have, at some point, insisted, I’ve got this, even when we were overwhelmed, uncertain, or quietly struggling. We push through, we figure it out, we carry more than we need to not always because we can but because we feel we have to. There is often discomfort, even resistance, when it comes to asking for help. It can feel like an exposure of weakness, a loss of control, or an admission that we are somehow lacking.
But pause for a moment and ask yourself honestly: how does it feel to carry everything on your own? Does it truly feel empowering, or does it feel heavy, exhausting, and lonely?
How do you feel when you need help?
Do you resist it?
Do you hesitate?
Do you worry about being a burden, or about how you will be perceived?
For some, asking for help challenges an identity built on being the one who holds everything together.
At its core, this resistance is often rooted in the ego—the part of us that wants to maintain control, to appear capable, and to avoid vulnerability at all costs. But from a spiritual perspective, we are not designed to navigate life, growth, and transformation on our own strength alone. That is the voice of ego.
Kabbalah teaches that we exist within a larger system of connection, one that includes not only other people but also the energy of the Creator. Whether we call it the Creator, the Light, or something else entirely, there is a source of support available to us at all times. But first we must ask. We have to reach for support. And then! We have to receive it.
Interestingly, while many of us struggle to ask for help, we often have no problem offering it. We show up for others. We listen, we give, we support. But when the roles are reversed, something shifts. How do you respond when someone offers to help you? Do you accept it fully, or do you deflect, minimize, or insist that you’re fine?
Do you believe that you have to earn support?
Receiving requires a kind of vulnerability that giving does not. It asks us to trust, and to let go of the idea that we must earn or deserve help. But in truth, allowing others to support us does not mean we are weak. Quite the opposite. It means we are strong enough to be vulnerable, confident enough to believe that people love us and want to support us.
This is how community is made. Community is not simply about being surrounded by people; it is about being in a flow of giving and receiving. It is about allowing ourselves to be seen, to be supported, and to show up for others in meaningful ways.
When we begin to open ourselves in this way—to asking, to receiving, to connecting—we start to notice something else as well. We begin to see the presence of the Creator in our daily lives, not only in the obvious or dramatic moments but in the small moments we might otherwise miss. A conversation that shifts your perspective. Someone reaching out at exactly the right time.
Imagine how that woman would have felt if her friend would have been happy and maybe even excited, to offer something that would help. She would have had a very different experience.
What if we redefined strength and capability based on how willing we were to share, give, and support? Not on how much we were able to do alone. What if contentment was not something you achieved through effort and control, but something that naturally emerges when you allow yourself to be supported?
We all have a purpose and we all desire to live our most fulfilled lives. But today I offer this gentle reminder: no matter your purpose, your goal, or your current circumstances you were never meant to do any of this alone.
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