The Weight of Needing People

I ain’t gonna lie—sometimes, just the thought of relying on people makes me feel sick. Not because I don’t want to, but because somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that I shouldn’t.

Like, how dare I need anybody? How dare I want to be checked on, looked after, held down the way I hold down everybody else?

That’s weakness, right? That’s setting myself up to be let down, to be disappointed, to owe somebody something.

At least, that’s what I used to believe.

And that belief ran deep. So deep, it made me shut down in friendships, stay distant from family, and turn love away before it could even get close enough to reach me. Even my brothers—I love them, but we’re not close like we could be. And if I really sit with it, I know why.

Because being close means being vulnerable. It means trusting. It means accepting help. And I spent my whole life learning that those things come with a cost.

So, instead, I played my role. The strong one. The one who got shit done. The one people could come to when they needed something. And don’t get me wrong, I love my people. But being that person all the time? It’s exhausting.

Because what happens when I need something?

I shut up. I sit with it. I push through it alone. And even when someone asks, “You good?” my first instinct is to say “Yeah, I got it.”

Even when I don’t.

Even when I’m drowning.

Even when I just need somebody to say, “I got you, too.”

But here’s the thing—how is anyone supposed to show up for me if I never let them? How is anyone supposed to be there if I refuse to let them in?

It took me a long time to even admit this to myself. That a part of my healing wasn’t just about walking away from people who hurt me—it was about understanding why I accepted certain shit in the first place. Why I stayed in survival mode. Why I convinced myself that being independent meant never needing help.

And it always goes back to my inner child. That little girl who learned early that love came with conditions. That people leave. That trusting the wrong person can cost you everything.

She’s still in me. Still protecting me. Still whispering, “Don’t let them in, they might hurt us.”

But she’s also the one who’s tired.

She’s tired of carrying everything alone. She’s tired of pretending she’s okay when she’s not. She’s tired of being the strong one just because that’s the only thing she’s ever known.

So, I’ve been sitting with her. Talking to her. Reminding her that we don’t have to do this alone no more. That we can be soft. That we can accept love. That we can let people help us without guilt eating us alive.

Because I see now—there’s no shame in needing love. There’s no failure in needing support. And there’s definitely no weakness in wanting more than the bare minimum.

So, I’m working on it. Little by little.

And if you’re working on it too, just know you ain’t alone.

Ever felt guilty for needing people? Drop it in the comments, let’s talk about it.