Why I Couldn't Ask for Help, Even When It Was Already Being Offered

Back in 2023 when I left my marriage, I moved back into my parents home, with a newborn and a 3 year old. During this time, I juggled through loss (of the family I dreamed of growing old with), coping with postpartum blues and trying to get back to feeling somewhat like 'myself' again, both mentally and physically.

With depression, constantly on the run with a high energy threenager and a very colicky baby who hated car rides, trying to get a genuine moment to myself was hard. Really hard.

Before I could rely on my former spouse to watch our daughter while I escaped for a couple of hours to the gym, my go to outlet for reconnecting with myself outside of a being a wife and a mom. My new reality left very little flexibility to do this anymore.

While I am forever grateful of my parents looking out for my wellbeing during this time and knowing that I could technically ask for an extra hand for an hour or so a couple times a week (because they consistently reminded me to lean on them), I could not bring myself to ask for an extra hand to watch my daughters so that I could do something for myself.

Asking for help to watch my girls for a few hours to take time for myself felt like trying to take an arm when someone lends a hand. I felt so guilty at the thought of asking. They've already done so much, how dare I ask for more support?

It's interesting to say that my guilt was largely triggered by the inner thought that there are other single moms out there who have had no support whatsoever and I should not take for granted the support that I've been able to receive. I felt guilty because I felt like I was selfishly taking advantage of my resources when other women haven't had this level of blessing.

And yet, it was a much needed outlet that I needed for myself to rebalance myself mentally and physically after a c-section and relationship loss. A need that I recognized, a need that I was advised by my therapist to work on, and yet mentally, I could not give myself permission to tap into the very resources that I was blessed to have.

This level of guilt was seasoned with the idea that my maternal responsibility falls on me and no one else. It was sprinkled with the thought that it was my personal choice to exit my marriage and, therefore, it was my responsibility to reap the consequences of my choices and actions. And it was tossed with the gut wrenching and embarrassing feeling of becoming a burden to those who love me.

I remember it clearly.

In my mind, I had to suck it up and work around my responsibilities. I squeezed light workouts here and there, as if it was a chore or a task, rather than an outlet. I thought that was the only way to dedicate time just for me — no kids, no ex, no work email open in another tab. And instead of feeling relieved, I felt myself burning out.

Then when the inevitable quietness visited at the end of the night, a thought constantly crept in: shouldn't I be grateful enough for what I have, instead of asking for more — especially when this was my choice to make?

Naming the Guilt

If you've felt this too, I want you to know it usually isn't about whether you deserve a break. It's about something quieter and harder to untangle — the belief that asking for support means taking more than your share.

For me, it showed up as the difference between a hand and an arm. My parents had already given me so much — a home, stability, consistent reminders that I could lean on them.

But asking them to watch my girls so I could do something just for myself felt like reaching for more than what was offered. Like I'd already been given a hand, and asking for time to myself was reaching for the whole arm.

It didn't help that another thought sat right underneath it: other single moms don't have this kind of support at all — who am I to want more, on top of what I've already been given? And beneath that, one more layer — this was my choice. I chose to leave my relationship. So shouldn't I be the one to carry all of it, without asking anyone to carry any part of it with me?

None of that guilt was really about a workout, or an hour alone, or anything I was actually asking for. It was about believing that needing anything more than what I already had made me selfish, ungrateful, or like a burden to the people who loved me most.

Why This Guilt Shows Up

There's a real explanation for why this specific kind of guilt is so common, especially after a self-directed life change like leaving a marriage. When support is something we already feel we don't fully "deserve" — because we made the choice, because someone else has it harder, because we've already been given so much — asking for more can feel less like a reasonable need and more like overreach.

Psychologically, this often ties back to how we measure our own worth: if part of you believes your value comes from not being a burden, then needing help starts to feel like proof you're failing at that, rather than a normal, human thing to need.

It's not a character flaw, and it's not a sign you're ungrateful. It's simply what happens when self-worth gets quietly tied to self-sufficiency — especially for women who are already carrying a full load alone.

What Shifted for Me

I'd love to tell you I found a clean before-and-after moment, but the truth is more honest than that: I still struggle with asking others for help. This isn't a story with a resolved ending — it's one I'm still actively working through.

What did shift was something my therapist pointed out that I hadn't let myself see clearly. My parents were already, repeatedly, telling me they were there — reminding me, without me ever having to bring it up, that their help was standing right in front of me.

My therapist reframed it simply: the offer is already being made. You don't have to earn it, and you don't have to ask out loud for permission to take what's already being held out to you.

That reframe didn't erase the guilt, but it gave me something to work with. I started giving myself permission to accept help when it was offered, even quietly, even without a formal ask on my part.

And slowly, I've started accepting something else too: that taking care of my wellbeing isn't selfish, and that needing a moment to myself isn't ungrateful — it's a necessity to keep everything else rolling.

One Small Thing to Try

If this feeling is familiar to you, here's a small starting point — not a life overhaul, just one thing:

This week, notice one moment someone offers you help, even quietly, even without you asking for it — and let yourself take it. You don't have to earn it first, and you don't have to talk yourself out of needing it. Just notice the guilt if it shows up, accept the help anyway, and afterward ask yourself: would I want a friend to turn down the same offer out of guilt? 

Often, the grace we'd extend to someone else without a second thought is the exact thing we're withholding from ourselves.

If This Resonated

If this feeling — losing track of who you are outside of being a mom, an ex, or even an employee — is something you're sitting with right now, I built a free guided workbook for exactly this.

It walks you through naming the roles you carry, reconnecting with who you are underneath them, and taking small steps back toward yourself.

Who Am I Now — free guided workbook

You're allowed to take up space in your own life again. I'm glad you're here.