Finding Support: Learning to Let Someone In

Blog 2 of 4: Self-Acceptance Series

“Who wishes to walk with me?” ~ Walt Whitman

We can spend years learning how to understand ourselves, change old habits, and make better decisions, only to discover that one of the hardest things to do is let someone else know what we're going through. We've become so accustomed to handling our emotions privately that even when we recognize what we're feeling, we may not know how to share it. We can be surrounded by people and still feel alone in the work we're doing, particularly when nobody sees the effort behind the changes we're making.

Part of that work involves reconsidering our relationships. Some people we've chosen to walk away from, while others have walked away from us as we've begun to change. Like Vasilisa travelling through the dark forest, we may find ourselves navigating unfamiliar territory without the people who once surrounded us. The path forward may be necessary, but that doesn't mean it isn't lonely.

But not every difficult relationship ends, nor does every relationship need to. There are family members we continue to see, friends whose company we still value, and coworkers we interact with because our responsibilities require it. Some of these people still know exactly how to push our buttons, whether they intend to or not. It might be a familiar criticism, an expectation that we'll always say yes, or a conversation where we've traditionally remained silent to avoid conflict or argued to defend ourselves. The circumstances may be familiar, but we're no longer willing to let our old reactions make every decision for us.

Choosing How We Respond

Making a conscious decision requires us to be present in the moment, rather than allowing years of familiar behaviour to determine our response. We begin to notice what's happening within us as a conversation unfolds, giving ourselves room to consider what we actually want to do. Sometimes that means remaining silent because we know the conversation won't lead anywhere useful, while other times we recognize that something needs to be said, even if speaking up creates discomfort. We might even agree to a request we'd once have accepted out of obligation, but this time because we genuinely want to help.

We can recognize the difference in how those decisions feel. There isn't that familiar tightening in our stomach, the resentment beginning to build, or the feeling that we've committed ourselves to something we don't want to do. These signals don't make every decision easy, but they help us understand whether we're acting from genuine willingness or an old expectation. The change isn't necessarily in what we do, but in the freedom we have to choose it.

Of course, we won't always recognize what's happening in the moment. Sometimes the familiar response comes so quickly that we've agreed to something before considering whether we want to, remained silent because we're afraid of someone's reaction, or become defensive when an old hurt is touched. We may not recognize the fear, guilt, or need for approval behind our response until later. That can be disappointing after all the work we've done, but recognizing the pattern afterward is still a change from the days when we never questioned it at all.

What We Carry Home

Whether we've made a conscious decision we're comfortable with or fallen back into an old response driven by fear or obligation, an unresolved emotion can still follow us home. Hours later, we might find ourselves replaying someone's words or questioning our response. As we explored during our Self-Honor journey, these mental rehearsals can signal an emotion that still needs attention. Perhaps we felt dismissed, hurt, or disappointed, but instead of acknowledging those feelings, we keep searching for something we could have said or done differently. The conversation has ended, yet we're still spending our energy trying to change it.

When that replay turns into self-criticism, it can undermine the confidence we've worked so hard to build. Psychologist G. Alan Marlatt explored how interpreting a lapse in behaviour as personal failure can intensify shame and discouragement, increasing the risk of further setbacks. Although his research focused on addictive behaviours, it offers a useful perspective on our own patterns. One moment of people-pleasing, silence, or defensiveness doesn't undo months of growth. But convincing ourselves that we should know better by now can turn one difficult experience into a much larger judgment about how far we've come.

Rather than exhausting ourselves with another round of mental rehearsals or burying our feelings until the next encounter brings them back, we can reach out to someone we trust. A friend, sibling, or professional can offer a place to express emotions we haven't been able to untangle ourselves. Some people find regular conversations with a counsellor helpful for processing feelings before they accumulate. We don't always need advice or reassurance that we were right. Sometimes we simply need to be heard, consider another perspective, and understand what the experience has brought up in us.

And support isn't only for difficult moments. We may finally speak up for ourselves, make a decision we've been putting off, or handle a familiar situation in a way that once seemed impossible. After years of working through our difficulties privately, we may have become just as accustomed to keeping our accomplishments to ourselves. Not every emotion needs to be worked through. Some deserve to be celebrated, and we shouldn't have to celebrate them alone.

Learning to Let Someone In

Asking for help can be difficult, even for people who readily offer it to others. We might spend hours listening to a friend's troubles, yet struggle to admit when we need someone to listen to ours. And when support is offered, how often do we respond with a familiar, “No, I'm fine,” before we've even considered accepting it? For some, accepting help feels uncomfortable because we've always been the dependable one. For others, past disappointments have taught us not to expect support at all. Either way, we may recognize that we need someone and still struggle to find the words to ask.

Finding support isn't always as simple as knowing who to ask. There's also the question of trust.  We may worry that they'll judge us, repeat something we've shared in confidence, or offer advice before we've had a chance to explain ourselves. Sometimes the people we've always known aren't the ones we feel safe turning to, which means building connections beyond our familiar circle. We don't have to reveal everything about ourselves in the first conversation. Trust can grow through smaller moments, as we discover who listens without judgment, respects our boundaries, and can be honest with us even when their perspective differs from our own.

Vasilisa may have entered the forest alone, but she wasn't entirely without support. Before her mother died, she gave Vasilisa a little doll and told her to care for it and turn to it for guidance whenever she was troubled. As Vasilisa approaches Baba Yaga's frightening dwelling, she carries that gift with her. The doll cannot remove the dangers ahead or make her decisions for her, but it offers something she can trust when she's uncertain of what to do. We may not have had someone to guide us in the past, but that doesn't mean we cannot begin finding people who offer that same sense of understanding and encouragement now.

When we finally allow someone in, we may be surprised by the relief of speaking openly about something we've carried privately for so long. Someone may recognize progress we've overlooked or help us see a situation from an angle we hadn't considered. We might even discover that the people we care about welcome the chance to support us, just as we've supported them. The reward isn't that someone else takes away our difficulties or makes our decisions for us. It's discovering that we can remain responsible for our own lives without having to experience every part of them alone.

Closing Reflection

Vasilisa has reached Baba Yaga's dwelling, and the most difficult part of her journey may still lie ahead. She cannot know what will be asked of her or whether she'll have everything she needs to meet those demands. But she hasn't arrived empty-handed. She carries the doll her mother gave her, a reminder that even in an unfamiliar and frightening place, there is guidance available to her.

Maybe we've reached a similar point in our own journey. We've begun recognizing our old reactions, understanding the emotions we carry, and discovering that there are people we can turn to. But knowing support is available and allowing ourselves to receive it are two different things. After years of managing on our own, turning down help can become just as automatic as the other patterns we've worked so hard to change. We've worked so hard to change the patterns that kept us from being ourselves. Now we may have to question the one that keeps us from letting others be there for us.

“The people who have learned to carry the most are often the ones who have forgotten what it feels like to be held.” ~ Pamela

About the Author  

Pamela is the writer behind Energy Waves Wellness Ltd., where she explores the relationship we have with ourselves and the experiences that shape the way we live. Her writing combines personal reflection, curiosity, and the natural rhythms of life to ask better questions rather than offer easy answers. She is the creator of the Return to Self & Rise Journey™, a year-long series of reflective essays and guided workbooks designed to help readers pay attention, question, choose, and adjust.