The Permission We Forget to Give Ourselves (And Why It Matters Now More Than Ever)
I was in a car accident with my mother recently.
We're both fine - shaken but unharmed. The car, less so. And in the immediate aftermath, there was the rush of logistics: insurance calls, rental cars, the busy work of handling what needs handling.
But then I noticed something.
A hollowness. Not just physical tension (though that was there too), but an emotional disconnect. The feeling of my mind racing ahead to solve problems while some part of me was still back there, braced at the moment of impact.
I recognized that gap - the space between functioning and actually processing what had happened. And I knew I needed to pause.
Not because anything was "wrong" in a way that required fixing. But because something significant had happened, and if I just kept moving forward without stopping to be with it, that unprocessed experience would settle into my system in ways that would cost me later.
As someone who coaches people through life transitions and helps them build sustainable support systems, I know this pattern intimately. We're so conditioned to just keep going that we forget we have another option.
We forget we need permission to pause. And we definitely forget to give ourselves that permission.
The Cultural Lie About Independence
We live in a culture that worships productivity, independence, and "having it all together."
Keep moving. Keep achieving. Keep your struggles private. Figure it out on your own.
The myth of the self-made person, the bootstraps mentality, the idea that asking for help is somehow a sign of weakness - all of it sets us up for profound isolation and disconnection from our own needs.
And here's what that costs us:
When we push through the hard things without pausing to process them, we can't integrate the lessons. We can't notice what we actually need. We just accumulate unprocessed experiences that shape our reactions, our relationships, our capacity for presence.
When we achieve something and immediately scale to the next goal, we never experience satisfaction. We're always climbing, never arriving. The goalposts keep moving and we wonder why nothing ever feels like enough.
When we default to our familiar coping mechanisms - staying busy, numbing out, pushing feelings aside - we survive, but we lose touch with the aliveness that makes life worth living.
Right now, the world is asking so much of us. Economic uncertainty, political division, the weight of news that feels relentless. Many of us are navigating job instability, relationship strain, health concerns, or just the accumulated exhaustion of several very hard years.
And our cultural messaging? Keep it together. Stay productive. Don't burden others.
It's a setup for breakdown.
Recognizing When You Need Support
After the accident, I knew I needed help. But here's what I had to do first: I had to give myself permission to need help at all.
This is often the hardest part. We're so conditioned to handle things on our own that we don't even register when we've passed the point where that's sustainable.
So how do you know when you need support?
That hollow feeling - the sense of disconnect between what you're doing and what you're feeling - is often the first signal.
You might also notice:
Going through the motions without really being present
Difficulty making decisions or knowing what you actually want
Feeling overwhelmed by things that used to feel manageable
Emotional flatness or numbness alternating with sudden intensity
The sense that you're "holding it together" but it's taking all your energy
Wondering "is this all there is?" or feeling like you're living someone else's life
Here's the truth that our culture doesn't want you to know: We need more support than we're told we need.
Not just to thrive. To maintain our basic wellbeing in a world that demands so much from us.
What Asking for Help Actually Looks Like
After I recognized I needed support, I had to figure out what kind. This isn't always obvious, and the answer isn't always the same.
I booked bodywork because I needed to address the physical tension and give my nervous system a chance to process what my mind was still catching up to. Sometimes the body needs attention first.
I talked to trusted friends who could just listen without trying to fix anything. Sometimes we need witnesses who can hold space for our experience without making it about them.
I made sure I had flexibility in my schedule for the unexpected emotional processing that comes up after something jarring. Sometimes we need permission to not be productive.
And I recognized that if this had been bigger, or if I hadn't started feeling better, I would need professional help - therapy, trauma processing, whatever it took. Sometimes we need expertise we don't have.
This is what building a support system actually looks like: knowing what different kinds of support exist, being willing to ask for what you need, and having people and resources you can turn to.
Not just in crisis. In the ongoing navigation of being human in challenging times.
Different Kinds of Support for Different Needs
One of the things I help clients with in coaching is identifying what support they actually need (versus what they think they should need or what worked for someone else).
Somatic support - bodywork, energy work, movement practices - when your body is holding stress and you need help releasing it physically.
Emotional processing support - therapy, coaching, trusted friends - when you need to talk through experiences, get perspective, or work through patterns.
Practical support - help with tasks, childcare, meal trains, financial assistance - when you're overwhelmed by logistics and need things taken off your plate.
Community and belonging - groups, circles, regular connection - when you need to remember you're not alone in your experience.
Strategic support - coaching, mentoring, consulting - when you know what you want but need help figuring out how to get there or what's blocking you.
Most of us need some combination of these at different times. The key is:
Recognizing when you need help (not waiting until you're in crisis)
Knowing what kind of help would actually be useful (not just defaulting to what's familiar)
Being willing to ask for and receive it (not letting pride or shame stop you)
Building systems so support is available before you desperately need it (not starting from scratch every time)
Building Sustainable Support Systems
Here's what I know from coaching people through transitions, challenges, and the ongoing work of building lives that actually feel good:
You can't do this alone. Not sustainably. Not without cost.
The people who thrive aren't the ones who never need help. They're the ones who've learned to identify what they need, ask for it clearly, and build relationships and systems that provide ongoing support rather than emergency rescue.
This is part of what we work on in coaching:
Identifying your actual needs (not what you think you should need)
Recognizing your patterns around asking for and receiving help
Building a support ecosystem that works for your life, not someone else's template
Learning to extend to yourself the same compassion you'd offer others
Creating flexibility and permission in your life for the reality that being human is hard
Because here's the thing: giving yourself permission to need support isn't self-indulgent. It's what allows you to show up fully for the life you want to live and the people you care about.
You're Allowed to Not Be Okay
If you're feeling that hollowness, that disconnect, that sense of pushing through while something important goes unacknowledged - you're not alone, and you're not failing.
If you're carrying more than feels sustainable and you're not sure how to ask for help or what kind of help you even need - that's exactly the kind of thing coaching can help with.
You don't have to figure this out on your own. You don't have to keep pushing through. You're allowed to pause, to need support, to build a life that includes the flexibility and care you need to actually thrive.
You're allowed to need help. Your body and your life have been waiting for permission.
