The Struggle of Asking for Help: Why Balancing Independence and Vulnerability Could be More Difficult for Women

There I was, in a foreign country, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and an unfamiliar language, with my daughter lying in a hospital bed. The only thing I knew for certain was that I needed to get to her as quickly as possible. But the thought of asking someone for help—a simple lift to the hospital—felt like an unbearable weight. I didn’t know the area, the language, or the customs, and yet, it wasn’t these barriers that made me hesitate. It was the deep-seated discomfort of relying on someone else.

The Burden of Independence

For as long as I can remember, I’ve carried the belief that I must be self-reliant. The idea I must be independent has always been there, a deep routed belief that I've not been aware of. This belief, however, didn’t form in a vacuum. It was shaped by experiences where support from others was scarce, where I learned that if I didn’t look after myself, no one else would.

As a result, I’ve become fiercely self-sufficient. I’m the one who’s supposed to offer help, not the one who asks for it. I’m the provider, the healer, the one who ensures that others are taken care of. So when I find myself in a position where I need help, it feels like I’m stepping out of my natural role, and it’s deeply unsettling.

The Conflict Between Independence and Well-being

I'm growing to realise this need to be independent doesn’t always serve me well. I’m starting to see how it now conflicts with my well-being. I’m beginning to recognise times when not asking for help makes situations more stressful than needed. This recent experience in Greece was no different. I was lost in a foreign country, worried sick about my daughter, and yet, the thought of asking for help brought on waves of stress.

I eventually received help, but it didn’t bring me comfort. Instead, it reinforced my discomfort, reminding me that I wasn’t in control and that I couldn’t navigate this situation entirely on my own. It highlighted my vulnerability, and rather than alleviating my stress, it compounded it. In hindsight, I realise that my reluctance to seek assistance only made things harder for me, but the fear of what others might think—the fear of being seen as weak or incapable—kept me from reaching out sooner.

Why Asking for Help is Hard

So why is asking for help so hard? For me, it boils down to a few key fears: the fear of judgment, the discomfort of vulnerability, and the challenge of relinquishing control. Asking for help feels like admitting that I’m not as capable as I want to be and that I’m not entirely in control of my life. It’s a momentary surrender of my independence, and that’s a difficult pill to swallow.

There’s also the internal narrative that plays out every time I consider asking for help. I’m the provider, the one who should be giving support, not receiving it. When I’m the one asking, it feels like I’m betraying this role, and that creates an intense inner conflict. I’ve spent so much of my life being self-sufficient because I felt I had to be. No one else was going to provide for me, so I needed to be able to provide for myself. And now, that belief is so ingrained that it’s hard to break free from it, even when it’s in my best interest to do so.

The Impact on my Leadership Career.

This struggle doesn’t just affect me—it affects my relationships, both personally and professionally.? And I know I'm not alone with these beliefs.? Many women I work with tell me a similar story.??

Asking for help is a sign of weakness.??

I need to constantly be perfect.??

If I say no, I might not get the opportunity again.??

I have to prove I'm worth my pay??

We know that Women in leadership positions frequently face heightened scrutiny and pressure to perform flawlessly due to their minority status. This can lead them to take fewer risks or self-promote less than their male counterparts.? And when we do find female role models at a senior level their reluctance to ask for help can send a different message, one that says, “I don’t need anyone else; you can do this on our own.”

And personally? I don’t want my daughter to feel as alone as I sometimes do. I want her to know that I’m here for her and that she can rely on me for anything.?

I worry this could make her feel like she, too, has to be entirely self-sufficient and that asking for help is a sign of weakness. I don’t want her to carry that burden, but I also know that children often learn by example. If I’m not willing to ask for help, how can I expect her to be?

Moving Forward

So, where do we go from here? I’ve learnt this mindset is not sustainable in a professional capacity, and this experience with my daughter’s accident taught me I also carry this in my home life.

My biggest reframe was that independence is important, it’s also crucial to recognise when it’s okay to lean on others. Vulnerability isn’t a sign of weakness—it’s a part of being human. By allowing ourselves to ask for help, we open the door to deeper connections and stronger relationships. It’s something I’m working on, though I know it will take time.

I’m starting to see that asking for help doesn’t make me any less capable. It shows strength—strength in knowing my limits and in recognising that I don’t have to carry every burden alone. It’s a lesson I’m learning, but it’s one I hope to embrace fully, for my sake and for the sake of those I love.

Conclusion

The struggle to ask for help is real, and it’s one that many women in professional careers face, often silently. But by acknowledging these internal battles and reflecting on their impact, we can begin to change the narrative. Independence is valuable, but so is the ability to reach out when we need it. It’s a balance I’ll always be working on, but I know that, in time, I’ll find a way to be both self-sufficient and open to the support of others - both in my professional and personal life!