It’s funny how the simplest things can become the biggest accomplishments. Learning to accept help has been part of that lesson.
Earlier this week, I attended a work retreat with my former office in St. Petersburg. Since moving into my new national role, I work remotely, which means I don’t get to see the people I spent years working alongside nearly as often. So when the opportunity came to spend the day with everyone, I was excited!
But before I could even get there, I had my first challenge of the day.
Getting ready.
Hair. Makeup. Getting dressed. All the things I used to do without a second thought.
These days, they take considerably more energy than they once did. By the time I was ready to leave the house at 7 AM, I already felt like I’d accomplished something.
But let me tell you, my hair looked GOOD! And judging by the compliments I received throughout the day, everybody agreed. 😂
Sometimes you have to celebrate the little victories.
The Things We Don’t Think About
Over the past few years, I’ve been experiencing a gradual loss of physical independence.
It’s difficult to explain what that feels like when it doesn’t happen all at once.
There’s no single moment when everything changes. Instead, there are dozens of little moments when you realize something that used to be easy isn’t anymore.
Stairs become a challenge. Getting ready takes more energy. You start thinking about how far you’ll have to walk, whether there will be somewhere to sit, or if you’ll be able to navigate a particular space.
In fact, there was another department retreat scheduled for the day before that one, and I made the decision not to attend. I knew there would be a lot of walking, and as much as I would have liked to participate in both events, I knew my body wouldn’t be able to handle two days like that back to back.
That’s the part people don’t always see. Sometimes losing independence isn’t just about what you physically can’t do anymore. It’s about the things you have to choose not to do so you have enough energy for the things you don’t want to miss.
Things you never had to consider become part of your everyday calculations.
And perhaps one of the hardest parts is that, mentally, I’m still the same woman I’ve always been.
I still want to do everything. I still have places to go, people to see, things to accomplish, and absolutely no patience for my body telling me otherwise.
But wanting to do something and being physically able to do it aren’t always the same thing.
And learning to accept that has been its own journey.
A Different Kind of Strength
Earlier this week, there were moments when I needed help.
At one point, I couldn’t step onto a platform for a group picture without assistance. So I asked for a hand.
Later, when we approached some stairs, I mentioned that I’d be slower but that I could use the railing to keep myself steady.
And without being asked, people slowed down and walked alongside me.
That might not sound like a big deal to someone else, but for me, it is.
I’ve spent most of my adult life being the person who handles things.
The planner. The problem solver. The one who figures it out.
When you’re accustomed to being responsible for yourself and everyone depending on you, control becomes more than a personality trait. It becomes a way of life.
For a long time, that served me well.
It helped me navigate difficult seasons, raise my son, build a career, and create stability when life didn’t always offer much of it.
I learned to depend on myself because, for a long time, I needed to.
And somewhere along the way, being capable became closely tied to doing everything on my own.
But here’s something I’m beginning to understand.
Just because a particular way of living helped you survive one season doesn’t mean it has to define every season that follows.
Sometimes the very habits that protected us are the ones we eventually have to learn to loosen.
Not because they were wrong.
But because life has changed.
And so have our needs.
The Kindness I Didn’t Know I Needed
What made that retreat so special wasn’t simply that people helped me.
It was how they helped.
Nobody made a big production out of it. Nobody made me feel embarrassed or inconvenient.
When I asked for help, they offered a hand. And when I didn’t ask, but simply explained what I needed to navigate the stairs, they adjusted their pace to mine.
Someone gently asked if I was okay.
And that was it.
Simple, thoughtful kindness.
And this isn’t just a retreat story. This is everyday life for me.
But the day held so much more than those moments.
I got to reconnect with people I hadn’t seen in a while. There were hugs, laughter, and genuine excitement about seeing each other again. We caught up on life, work, and our families. I loved hearing how everyone was doing, what was new in their lives, and how their loved ones were doing. And it meant just as much that they remembered the little details of mine. Someone even asked about Wednesday, my cat!
Several people told me they missed my energy in the office and that things weren’t quite the same without me.
And I won’t pretend that didn’t fill my heart.
I miss them, too.
I love working from home, and it makes so much sense for my current role and physical limitations. But I miss the everyday interactions and the relationships that made going to work feel like more than just going to work.
That retreat reminded me that those connections are still there.
And perhaps more importantly, it reminded me that I don’t always have to be the one doing something for someone else to be valued.
Sometimes I can simply show up.
And sometimes I can be the one who needs a hand.
Learning a New Way becomes Learning to Accept Help
I wish I could tell you I’ve completely embraced this lesson.
I haven’t.
There are still moments when needing help frustrates me. When I miss the independence I once had. When I wish my body would cooperate with the plans my mind has already made.
And there are moments when accepting help feels uncomfortably close to admitting defeat.
But I’m beginning to see that those aren’t the same thing.
Asking for help doesn’t erase everything I’ve accomplished independently.
Accepting kindness doesn’t make me weak.
And allowing someone else to take the lead doesn’t mean I’ve lost my ability to lead.
It simply means I’m learning another way to live.
One where I don’t have to control every detail.
One where I can trust that someone else’s willingness to help isn’t necessarily an obligation or an inconvenience.
One where receiving can be just as meaningful as giving.
And maybe that’s the lesson this season is trying to teach me.
Not that I need to become less independent, less capable, or less myself.
But that I can make room for other people without losing who I am.
I can still be strong and need assistance.
I can still be capable and have limitations.
I can still be the woman who gets things done, even if sometimes getting things done requires another person’s hand.
I went to that retreat expecting to enjoy seeing some familiar faces.
I came home reminded of how much kindness there is in the people around me.
And how much I’m still learning to accept help.
Sometimes strength isn’t about making it up the stairs on your own.
Sometimes it’s about reaching for the hand that’s already waiting to help you.
And maybe, just maybe, learning to do that is its own kind of healing.