Asking for help is…human.
(5 minute read)
Has anyone else watched the show, Alone? It’s about survivalist-trained people who get dropped off in a harsh environment—alone. Just themselves and the land. And then we watch what they do to stay alive despite seriously threatening predators and cutting wintry elements. The last person standing over the course of several months wins money.
While the survivalist strategies fascinate me, (I remember one person could tell how many more weeks before the first snowfall from the inside of a squirrel’s hide—what?!) I’m continuously struck by how the contestants greatly struggle with the lack of socialization, connection, and help.
The show repeatedly highlights for me the idea that we are a social species. We weren’t born as turtles, where mama lays her eggs, says, “Bye honey!,” and then we’re on our own to make the treacherous trek to the ocean—dodging sea gulls, raccoons, and waiting sharks.
We were born needing to be fed by someone else, held by someone else, protected by someone else, and given attention and love by someone else. We were born as a species that needs help to survive.
Dependency is a biological fact
But as adults living in The States, an individualistic, “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” culture, we often conflate asking for help as “failure.” Or as adults perhaps we feel we need to appear “strong” and “smart” and asking for help would make us appear “weak” or “dumb.” Or perhaps we struggle with letting go of control and allowing ourselves to be cared for, to be held.
We seem to forget that dependency is a biological fact of our species. We need each other as infants and as adults in order to survive. One of my favorite studies demonstrating our need for one another is done by Dr. James Coan from the University of Virginia. He took a group of women, told them they would receive a mild electric shock and measured their brain activity using a MRI machine. He specifically looked at their hypothalamus, a part of the brain that activates under stressful conditions.
The women were divided into three groups—women waiting for the shock alone, women waiting for the shock while holding a stranger’s hand, and women waiting for the shock while holding their spouse’s hand. Any guesses as to which group had the most and least hypothalamus activity?
….The women waiting alone had the greatest hypothalamus activity, the women holding a stranger’s hand had some activity, and the women holding their partner’s hand had minimal hypothalamus activity. Furthermore, the women who identified having strong, healthy marriages had hardly any hypothalamus activity.
What’s the takeaway here? We need each other to help us regulate our stress response and support our well-being. With the help of even a stranger’s hand, we are more supported, more regulated. Paradoxically, when we’re more stabilized, we’re more able to go off and live our best lives. It’s as if our dependency allows us to be independent—in Attachment Theory literature, we call this the “dependency paradox.”
Let’s take an “Asking for help inventory”
Take a moment and think about the following questions. Jot down your answers and notice what comes up for you.
- What’s your relationship to asking for help like?
- What comes to mind when you think about the phrase “asking for help?”
- Can you think of a time when not asking for help prevented growth or progress?
- Can you think of a time when not asking for help hurt your well-being?
- Can you think of a time when asking for help paved the way for you to succeed?
- Can you think of a time when asking for help nurtured your well-being?
What do you notice about your answers? If you’re thinking, “Oh gosh Chrissy, I might have an asking for help phobia…” know you’re not alone!
How to ask for help
As with any “how” the key ingredients to asking for help are to do so with Honesty, Openness, and Willingness (H.O.W.). There’s a sense of humility and vulnerability in asking for help, values that many of us on paper agree with but perhaps lose steam in our daily lives.
Practice humility. Say to yourself out loud, “I don’t know all of the answers and that’s okay” or “I can’t do everything by myself and that’s human. We weren’t designed to do it all alone.”
Practice reframing vulnerability. Reframe vulnerability from “weakness” to courageous, bold, and brave. Practice reframing vulnerability from “failure” to “starting a connection.”
Consider this: what kind of leader do you most trust? The one that says they always know what’s “right” or the one that is not afraid to say, “I’m not sure about this, let’s ask the team.” The one that says they can do it by themselves or the one that is humble and courageous enough to say, “I’m missing something here, what do you think?”
The vulnerability and humility of asking for help is so darn humanizing and allows us to trust one another, connect with one another.
Receiving help builds connection
Remember in elementary school there were “student jobs” in the classroom? Remember how darn good it felt to perform your role? “Carry lunch bags to the cafeteria? Sharpen the extra pencils? Lead the line?…YES!” (Side note: do stationary pencil sharpeners still exist? If not, kids are missing out on a terrific scent and opportunity to stretch their legs…okay back to the blog).
People like to contribute. It feels good. It gives us meaning and purpose. Having a purpose benefits our wellbeing.
When you help someone, do you feel closer or more distant to them after helping them? My guess is you feel closer…a part of you feels like you’ve been let into their world on a more sincere level. When we allow others to help us, it is often a chance to build a deeper connection with that person.
So the next time you ask for help, remember that you’re helping someone else too; you’re giving them the opportunity to feel good, important, and more connected to you. And you’re building trust.
If any of this resonates with you, comment below! Or if you’re noticing the next right help to ask for is to start therapy and think we could be a good fit, reach out to me on my Connect page.
Keep being human,
Chrissy
