The Strength in Asking for Help

Like many little kids, I grew up feeling like I was the main character, the center of attention, like the whole world revolved around me. And honestly, maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be when you’re young. You’re still learning who you are, what you love, and how the world works.

Maybe I’m the odd one out, but I’ll still sit down and watch a Disney movie any day. My love for them goes beyond childhood nostalgia. It’s the way those stories grow up with you. With a six-year age gap between my oldest and youngest siblings, Disney movies were the one thing we could all agree on as a family. While I could go on and on about my favorites and why, there’s one that’s stuck with me lately: Zootopia.

What little kid doesn’t love seeing their favorite animals come to life, each with their own personalities? But rewatching it now, I see it differently. Judy Hopps was the underdog, determined to prove everyone wrong, to show the world she could do it all on her own. She worked harder than anyone else because she was scared that asking for help would make her look weak, unworthy, or incapable of reaching her dream.

And honestly? I get that.

I’ve lived in that mindset, believing that accepting help meant I wasn’t capable. That if I wanted to be taken seriously, I had to push through everything by myself. Growing up, I didn’t want to be seen as fragile, incapable, or different from my peers. More than once, I pushed myself to the point of mental and physical exhaustion trying to do everything alone.

But over time, I’m learning that thriving and being independent doesn’t mean doing it all by yourself. It means using the resources around you, building a team, letting people support you, and realizing that strength isn’t about struggling silently. It’s about choosing wisely.

I’ve also learned the importance of knowing my own strengths and trusting that they’re enough. Not in comparison to anyone else. Not in trying to prove something. Just enough, as they are. There’s a quiet power in understanding what you can do and letting go of the pressure to be everything for everyone. Judy didn’t have to be the biggest, the fastest, or the strongest. She just had to be herself, and that was more than enough. Same goes for me. Same goes for you.