I Need Help!

I need help! Three simple words,  and yet, for so many of us, especially those of us with disabilities, they can be among the hardest to say. We’re taught to strive for fierce independence, to prove we don’t need support. And I get it: freedom feels like strength. But the truth is none of us is meant to walk life completely alone. We all need each other.

“Alone we can do so little. Together we can do so much.” -Helen Keller

              Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it really means to “need help.” Because, well… I need help. I have also been hearing from many others who need help, but who are afraid, hesitant, embarrassed, and even unwilling to ask for help. Imagine being able to just jump in your own car, drive to the store, run errands, maybe pop into a festival or pick up a few gifts for the holidays. That’s life for many people — simple, usual, uncomplicated.

              Now imagine that you can’t just go anywhere you want anytime you would like. The holidays approach. You want to join friends at parties, go shopping, enjoy a meal out. But instead you find yourself hoping someone will invite you. Hoping someone might offer a ride, or help with the shopping. Hoping you won’t feel like a burden.

              That vulnerability — needing someone. It can sting.

Sometimes people are honest: “I just can’t help right now.” And that’s okay. But often, people don’t even think about it. You’re invisible in their rush. They don’t realize you don’t have wheels or that walking into a busy store might be a mountain for you. You end up waiting… hoping… asking.

              So I’m asking now,  not just for me,  but on behalf of all of us who struggle with mobility or other limitations. I am asking for those of us who, if given a little help, could step out. Go to the store. Go to dinner. Attend a holiday gathering. Maybe even dance, laugh, belong.

              I am not saying we can’t find workarounds. We do. We figure things out. But life would have more color, more warmth — more connection — if we could share it with people willing to help.

Because I don’t just believe in independence. I believe in interdependence. Interdependence is the state of relying on one another, leaning on each other, sharing life — not because we’re weak, but because we’re human.

“Interdependence is and ought to be as much the ideal of man as self-sufficiency.” — Mahatma Gandhi

              Yes, we might strive to build a life where we minimize the need for help. But is that really the best, or the happiest, way to live? When will we admit none of us can do everything alone?

I need others. And others need me.

              For many blind or low-vision people, this idea of “I must be independent” becomes ingrained. We want to prove we’re equal. We don’t want pity. We don’t want to be “less than.” I spent years determined, pushing, proving — refusing to ask for help.

But over time, I’ve come to see the difference between independence and interdependence.

There is nothing wrong with knowing you need help — and asking for it. Asking doesn’t make you helpless. On the contrary — it can make you stronger. It shows you know your needs, your limits, and you claim your right to be included.

              As Mother Teresa once said, “I can do things you cannot. You can do things I cannot. Together we can do great things.”

              So now I ask you  to pause a moment. Think about your world, your community, your circle: Who might need help? Who might feel unseen because they don’t ask for help, or are afraid to? This holiday season — and beyond — could you make room for connection? Extend a hand. Offer a ride. Invite them. Include them.

Because to ask for help isn’t weakness. It’s courage. It’s honesty. And asking — and offering — help can change ordinary moments into shared memories.

              For those of us who rely on interdependence — thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being part of our journey. Because together — we can all go further than we ever could alone.

              If this resonates with you, I invite you to reach out to someone in your circle this week — a friend, a neighbor, or someone you know who may appreciate a helping hand. Maybe offer a ride, share a meal, simply invite them out. These small gestures matter. Let’s build a world where needing help isn’t a weakness — it’s a bridge to community.

              If you’re navigating life with low vision or other challenges and you’d like to explore this idea of interdependence more deeply, I’d be honored if you’d read my book, Treading The Waters Of Life: A Guide To Self-Reflection And Action. In it, I dive deeper into these themes — independence, interdependence, dignity, connection — offering tools and reflections to help you live more fully, more bravely, more connected.