There's a certain sting that comes when you have to ask for help. Especially when it's a big ask - the kind that makes your heart pound a little faster just thinking about it. Pride steps in, whispering that you should be able to handle it on your own. And if you can't, well, there's that uncomfortable "ick" that comes with the vulnerability of having to lean on someone else.

I know that feeling well. It can feel like asking for a favor chips away at our independence, or worse, at the image we've worked so hard to build of being strong, capable, and self-sufficient. But lately, I've been challenging myself to see it differently.

What if asking isn't weakness at all? What if it's actually trust?

When I think back to times when someone asked me for help, I didn't think less of them. Quite the opposite - I felt honored that they trusted me enough to let me in on their need. It was an invitation to step closer, to be part of their story in a meaningful way. Why, then, do I assume that others won't feel the same when I reach out?

The truth is, asking for help is a form of connection. It's saying, I can't do this alone, but I don't have to, because I value you enough to ask. It's vulnerable, yes - but vulnerability is where the deepest bonds are formed.

There's also something powerful about reminding ourselves that life is reciprocal. Today, I may be the one leaning on someone else's strength. Tomorrow, I may be the one offering mine. None of us are meant to carry everything by ourselves, all the time.

So I'm learning to reframe my pride. Instead of letting it convince me that asking makes me "less," I'm choosing to see asking as wisdom. As courage. As a gift - not just for me, but for the person I invite into my circle of trust.

Because sometimes, asking for help isn't about swallowing your pride - it's about giving someone the gift of being there for you.

For all things Lizzie 👇
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