In a conversation with one of my running friends the other day, she said to me that she doesn’t feel like she has enough “helpers” in her life. Qualifying the statement by saying that she’s not talking about assistants, but coaches; she explained that a friend of hers has a “spiritual director” and a psychotherapist, wondering out loud if people in similar-type roles would benefit her.
Her query was timely. Just a few days prior to this conversation I was marveling about the success I’ve seen when I’ve allowed myself to tap into the expertise of others, amazed at how much more powerful we all become when we ask for a little help. It almost feels gluttonous, the way I am teaching myself to embrace the counsel of specialists and propelling myself to places I never thought I could go. So why do so many of us have an aversion to requesting help, seeing this as a sure sign of weakness to be avoided at all costs?
Help can be tricky if you’re not looking at it the right way. It can feel like you’re admitting some horrible inadequacy. Many of us start our careers in the workforce in individual contributor roles. Responsible for a finite set of tasks under our control, it’s easy to get swept up into the mindset that we should be able to do it all on our own. Our performance is measured by how well we do individually, independent of others. Asking for help in these situations can feel like drawing attention to what we can’t do. Why on earth would we open ourselves up like that?
We can also feel like if we ask for help we’ll be passed over in favor of the person who’s jumped in to offer her services. I remember leaving my babies at home daycare years ago. There was always a gnawing fear in the back of my mind that my caregiver would be better at nurturing my kids than I was. Would my boys begin calling her “Mommy”? Of course this never happened (or if it did, she knew not to tell me to spare a broken heart), although I lived through some sleepless nights pervasive with guilt over the idea.
But here’s the deal, you’re irreplaceable: At home, in the workplace, in your relationships, everywhere.
The very nature of our uniqueness makes us all irreplaceable. This can get lost on us, especially when we’re young and trying to fit in, but our value is in our diversity. It’s our differences that make it both essential and easy to ask for help.
Asking for help requires a certain amount of vulnerability, for sure. But not in the way you might think. When we ask for help, we expose a gap or a need. It doesn’t mean we’re expected to fill the gap ourselves. In fact, we’re obligated to find the very best way to fill the gap. Admittedly, sometimes we’re not the best solution, someone else is.
It takes a certain amount of courage to identify the problem and admit that you’re not the solution. But it also comes with a certain degree of freedom. I’m working through this very thing at the office right now. I asked my boss for some help connecting our client to some of our expertise in India. I know no one in India within our organization. He knew exactly who to call. The response he received from our colleagues was overwhelming in its impressiveness. I’m willing myself to make this okay. I can choose to watch and learn from someone who appears overjoyed to insert himself and contribute. Or I can worry that I’m going to be seen as unqualified for my role because he’s doing this piece of the work, not me. It seems silly even writing the second option. The client is getting the highest quality work and lightning speed responsiveness. There’s no way I could have delivered this on my own.
So what was my opinion on my friend’s question as to whether she should bring experts into her life: A resounding “hell, yes!” It can only make you better, especially when it comes to venturing into the unknown to chase your dreams. Sometimes it truly is the only way you can move forward.
We can know exactly where it is we want to go, but very few of us can get there without some help. Embrace it. At some point we all need a light anchor to warp our vessel.
Hell yes!!! Love it. You always hit the pin on the head.
ReplyDeleteI love the sassy decisiveness of hell yes. It perfectly describes my friend Laura who uses this phrase all the time. I hope she'll forgive my shameless swiping of her trademark!
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