Balancing My Independence with Accepting Help

Graphic by Zoe Gigis

In my mind, there is a woman with brunette hair in a midnight-hued trench coat walking down the street with her head facing straight on. She does not fret at the wind catching her bangs mid-stride, and she has a career in a marble-floored office building that she acquired on her own terms. She does not wait around for phone calls, and she closes the door behind her because she doesn’t want anyone wanting to help her with whatever obstacle lies ahead.

I wanted to be her so bad for the longest time. I think every modern woman who has wanted the entirety of self-sufficiency has. I wouldn’t just daydream about being independent-- I would do anything in my power to make sure that I could stand on my own. I appeared nonchalant when problems arose, and when I didn’t, I rebounded quickly with a calm demeanor. I rarely asked for help, and asking someone for a favor was completely out of the question.

There’s nothing wrong with doing these things, as I attribute my motivation and perseverance to this dream of mine to be the totally independent, badass bitch. Many people value relying on themselves getting tasks done, going about every day to accomplish things, and figuring things out on their own; however, we shouldn’t have to be our own saviors at every second just for the sake of this “mysterious, cool go-getter” image.

Around mid-high school, I began to realize the unhealthy toll rejecting help and refusing to depend on others was having on my physical and mental health. When I was in physical pain while in public, I would refuse to go to the bathroom or take a rest while exercising. When people wanted to help after my dad died, I threw their notes of sympathy away. I didn’t let my boyfriend at the time get me food after getting my wisdom tooth pulled. I closed so many doors for the ideal, independent woman in my head that I was feeling more alone than I had to be feeling.

I look back at those times and wonder why I subjected myself to that so unnecessarily. I don’t have a solid answer; however, I do know that I was enamored with the idea of surviving these painful ordeals because not only was I convinced they were going to be short blips in my adolescent life, but also there was something so powerful about getting through the storm alone. It was the pride in my younger self getting the best of my emotional well being.

I’m convinced many of us did this growing up and are still so set on appearing “independent” that we lose sight of opening our doors to the true opportunities, people, and love that they are so adamant about having. Essentially, we’re so caught up in surviving our joys and sorrows that we ignore the multitudes of support for the sake of appearing independent, rather than being independent.

Besides, since when did we decide as a society that we had to “survive” our traumas instead of actually healing them? Somewhere along the way, the actual resolutions of our fears and struggles fell away with the help and support of our loved ones--the people who want to see us happy more than anything. We decided appearances of independence replaced the true meaning of independence.

When this epiphany hit me over on the head with a pan, it was hard to let my habits of refusing help merely just go away. There are still some days I insist someone else’s help isn’t necessary because it’s inconvenient for them. If someone takes away my dish, I get up and insist I clean the whole table and get to doing it. However, I’m proud of my progress I’m making--I’m finally taking people up on their offers, and if I’m in a bit of a pickle I have fewer qualms texting a friend or family member asking for a favor.

When I got my remaining three wisdom teeth pulled this past summer, I didn’t object when my boyfriend brought me some pho and ice cream. I let other people get my food when we go out, I don’t feel as bad asking for a ride if I can’t drive, and if I’m having a rough day, I no longer have a paralyzing fear of calling a friend to talk through it. Opening my door--even if it’s not fully open--has given me more room to filter out the negative expectations regarding my self-reliance and encourage more positive interactions with my own skills and the skills of others. 

Refusing help when needed just for the sake of appearing self-sufficient negates the idea of self-sufficiency altogether; in other words, real self-reliance is helping yourself out with the support of others who want to see you succeed. If you refuse the help and support you need, then you are degrading your own identity and selfhood in a way that is hard to reverse.

Therefore, I am getting rid of the brunette-haired woman of independence in my head; the one who lets her bangs get tangled in the wind and refuses to admit she’s not happy with her job. I’m replacing her with a version of myself that can walk in confidence, open doors on her own, and let her best friend get her coffee.