Do you struggle with asking for help?
advocating for your needs and asking for support is an essential part of community
In Rooted & Rising, we explore limiting beliefs through the lens of the nervous system- how they can form and ways to unravel them.
If you missed the last edition, we explored the limiting belief that our worth is tied to external measures of productivity. Check it out below!
When Asking for Help Feels Like a Burden
Many of us worry that asking for help makes us a burden, especially if it’s a recurring need. But at its core, this belief is rooted in fear—fear of being seen as weak, demanding, or incapable. Sometimes, there’s also the fear that any support we receive could later be used against us (e.g., “I did XYZ for you.”).
This is something I still struggle with.
Years ago, I had to move on short notice because my landlord took back the property, supposedly for personal use, but more likely to raise the rent for new tenants. My new place was only two blocks away, but as someone with a chronic pain condition, even a short move felt daunting. While I didn’t have any furniture, I had several suitcases and kitchen items to transport.
I’ve always felt uncomfortable asking for help, but I reminded myself that I genuinely like showing up for others—so I asked the person I was seeing if she could help me move. While we had only been dating for a month, we had been friends for years, she lived less than 10 minutes away from me and had a car. I rationalized that it was a reasonable request. She agreed and even offered to come help me pack and clean.
As the move approached, she let me know she had scheduled a meetup that day with an ex-partner to have a closure conversation. I’m all for open conversations and clearing the air, but I had told her I needed to be out before noon and asked if she could meet them later in the day or another time. The night before, she called and mentioned that they planned to meet at 10:30 AM. I told her not to worry about coming—I’d handle it myself.
It retrospect I should have voiced my disappointment that she had double booked and waited until the night before to tell me, but I was filled with anxiety. I wanted her to want to help me, and it felt odd to have to let someone know why that was upsetting.
I stayed up all night packing and cleaning, so the next morning I was already overwhelmed and in pain. When she checked in, I realized I really did need help and asked if she could help me move one load before her meetup. She agreed. Then, just as she was on her way, her ex showed up early. She assured me she’d be there soon—but she never showed up.
Hours later, I had moved everything myself. I was in a full-blown pain flare, exhausted, and angry—not just that she didn’t come, but that she wasn’t honest about her capacity or desire to help me. If she had told me she wasn’t going to make it, I could have asked someone else. Instead, I went into “I’ll just do it myself” mode.
When I told her how this affected me—both physically and emotionally—she turned it around, saying she felt hurt for being ‘berated.’ Somehow, I ended up comforting her. I then spent the next month in a terrible flare—right in the middle of an already busy time in my professional life. Needless to say, that relationship, and our friendship, didn’t last.
I don’t share this to vilify her, but to highlight what I learned: I should have communicated my needs more clearly and recognized that, regardless of how the other person responded, my needs were valid. At the time, I internalized the situation. I worried that I had asked for too much and maybe wasn’t deserving of this level of support. When I had to move next, I asked several friends for help and was so anxious the night before, but they showed up, the move took less than an hour.
That experience taught me that someone else’s lack of care wasn’t a reflection of my worth, nor the standard for how we should show up and treat others.
Advocating for Your Needs Isn’t Being “Difficult”
This same fear of being a burden can creep in when asking for health related accommodations and support.
I’ve lived with Celiac disease for 15 years—long before gluten-free was on restaurant menus. A few months ago, I had a virtual conversation with someone I had known 8 years prior. They mentioned that their partner had very severe Celiac, adding, “Way worse than I remember you being.”
Something about that comment rubbed me the wrong way. I reflected on why.
Yes, some people definitely have more extreme reactions to cross-contamination than I do. But even asymptomatic Celiacs have to be just as careful—because Celiac is an autoimmune disease. Even trace amounts of gluten can cause long-term damage, from malabsorption to increased cancer risk.
Looking back, I realized that I used to downplay my dietary restrictions to avoid being seen as "difficult." I was in University when I was diagnosed, and didn’t want my illness to be an inconvenience when going out with friends. I would often feel like I needed to qualify my restriction with, “but I can eat everything else, I’m not picky!”.
Ultimately, I wasn’t as careful at times as I should have been. I didn’t ask enough questions when eating out. I hesitated to remind people about cross-contamination. And I’ve sometimes paid the price for it.
I’m now a lot more explicit when dining out or eating at someone’s home. There’s nothing “difficult” about not wanting to get sick.
This applies to so many situations—whether it’s asking for physical accommodations, dietary adjustments, or even things like masking. Your needs are not a burden.
The Consequences
When we treat ourselves like a burden, we downplay the very real accommodations and support we need for our well-being. Logically, it seems silly not to ask for help when the stakes are high (like potentially getting sick).
Yet, our nervous system is shaped by our early attachments and our cumulative experiences, influencing how we perceive support and dependence.
If we have been let down in the past, or grew up with influences that didn’t respect our needs or their own, it may not feel safe in our nervous system to ask for help.
This is not about reducing ourselves or others to a label (e.g. avoidant, anxious etc.) but simply acknowledging the complex and varied experiences that can shape our nervous system and thus our thoughts and behaviours.
When the nervous system has learned that seeking help leads to rejection, shame, or obligation, it can adapt by reinforcing hyper-independence as a protective strategy. The fear of being a burden can activate our stress response, making self-reliance feel like the only safe option. You may recognize your default state below:
Fight response- "I don’t need anyone." Independence becomes a form of control to avoid vulnerability.
Flight response- Avoiding asking for help or emotionally withdrawing to escape the risk of rejection.
Freeze response- Feeling stuck between needing support and fearing the consequences of receiving it.
Fawn response- Over-giving to avoid being perceived as a burden, while neglecting personal needs and/or not asking for support.
Over time, the survival brain creates a cycle where asking and accepting support feels unsafe—even when it's genuinely offered. This belief not only isolates us, but it prevents us from tapping into the support systems available to us, often leading to unnecessary stress or burnout.
Healing involves gradually regulating the nervous system and rewiring neural circuits to recognize that healthy interdependence is not a threat, it’s how communities build and thrive.
The Reframe: Relationships are about mutual support, and I deserve to be supported and have my needs met.
In true community, no one is a burden. What we perceive as ‘burden’ is often the result of structural injustices—systemic inequalities, racism, ableism, and other forces beyond the individual’s control.
Building strong relationships isn’t just about the fun times; they are strengthened when we show up for one another—when we know we can count on someone. By investing in our relationships, we help create a kinder and more equitable community for everyone.
Both offering and receiving support are equally important. But if we’re not used to it, especially asking for support, it can be helpful to observe positive models as a reference.
For example, I have a friend who is quick to offer support and gracious in receiving it. When she receives help or a kind gesture, she responds confidently with, "Thank you, I will accept it" or "Thank you, I’m happy to receive it." What struck me was her comfort in receiving, which, in turn, makes her intentional and genuine when offering. It’s no surprise that she is an excellent community builder.
Learning to self-regulate is invaluable, but it’s important to remember that our nervous systems are profoundly shaped by relationships. We are wired for co-regulation—it’s essential for both individual and communal well-being. This relational safety is something that can only be cultivated through relationships.
Everyone’s map of the world looks different
We’ve discussed the Window of Tolerance in previous posts, but it’s also important in the context of our relationships. Everyone’s Window of Tolerance is unique, and it shifts based on daily experiences. A narrower WOT due to stress can affect a person’s capacity and how they respond to requests.
For example, if a loved one is going through a difficult time and isn’t able to support us, we might think, "See! I knew they wouldn’t want to help me." That inner voice reinforces: "I really am alone."
This is why we build community—so we can both give and receive support within a wider network.
If this isn’t a limiting belief that you struggle with, it can be helpful to those in your life who do struggle with it if you ask them for support and help occasional. While genuine support shouldn’t come with strings or ‘favours owed’, sometimes depending on people’s past experiences, reciprocity can feel safer. If they can be of help to you, then they may feel more comfortable asking you for support.
Root & Rise Practices:
Journal Prompt: Take a moment to reflect and journal on your previous experiences with asking for help.
When was the last time you reached out for help and felt supported?
What about that experience made it feel safe or worthwhile? How can you remind yourself of this the next time you hesitate to ask?
Start small: Practice asking for help in low-stakes situations—like getting a referral, letting a friend pick up coffee, or borrowing something. These small asks help build trust without triggering fear of major consequences. Pay attention to how your body feels before and after asking for help/support.
Co-regulation: Syncing your breathing or walking pace with someone can help regulate your nervous system, creating a sense of safety and connection while counteracting social isolation.
Contact points is a great resource for returning to your Window of Tolerance if you’re feeling dysregulated and overwhelmed. You can check out a guided meditation here.
The more we practice shifting this belief and regulating our nervous systems, the more we open ourselves up to growth and connection from others.
Have you ever struggled with feeling like a burden or leaning more into self-sufficiency?
Gentle hug,
Caitlin
Hi, I’m Caitlin (she/they)!
I coach people with chronic illness, neurodivergence, or overwhelm—especially mission-driven people who want to stay connected to their purpose without burning out.
Curious about nervous system-informed coaching? Book a free 30-minute discovery call to explore what working together might look like.