On Asking for Help
What grief taught me about leadership and the courage to receive
As leaders, asking for help can feel deeply uncomfortable.
And if you are anything like me, sometimes it feels downright impossible.
We are conditioned to carry the load. Solve the problem. Hold the vision. Keep moving forward no matter what.
Somewhere along the way, many of us absorbed the belief that needing support means we are failing at leadership. I want to gently and firmly say: that belief is a lie.
Asking for help is not a weakness. It is one of the greatest strengths you can cultivate as a leader.
Leadership does not mean carrying everything alone.
How We Show Up Matters More Than Ever
Leadership is not just about strategy and execution. It is about presence.
Many of you know parts of my life already. You know I’m married to Joe. You know our home has long been filled with the love of our furbabies, Lola and Bella.
Losing them changed everything.
Leadership is not separate from our humanity. It is shaped by it.
When Grief Disrupts the Ability to Function
Grief does not ask permission. It does not follow a calendar or respect your deadlines.
After losing Lola and Bella, I found myself unable to do things that once felt simple. I couldn’t listen to podcasts. I couldn’t focus on routine business tasks. Even the work I love felt distant and unreachable.
This was not a lack of discipline. This was grief. There was trauma, pain, and a deep physical ache that lived in my body. And in that space, one thing became absolutely clear: I could not do this alone.
Grief does not bend to productivity culture.
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What Asking for Help Actually Looked Like
On a personal level, asking for help sounded like this:
“Please call me back as soon as you get this.”
“Can I call you anytime and just have you listen?”
“Please tell our friends to stop sending flowers and pictures — it became too painful.”
“Can you come over and just sit with me in this space?”
None of these requests were dramatic or excessive. They were honest. They were specific. And they allowed the people who love us to show up in ways that actually helped.
People often want to help. They just need to know how.
In my business, asking for help meant making decisions that protected my capacity and honored my reality:
“Please cancel my podcast recording day.”
“Please let my clients know I won’t be available for the next several days.”
“Please cancel my meetings for the week and take them on my behalf.”
These were not failures of leadership. They were acts of responsible stewardship.
Resilience is not built through isolation. It is built through connection.
Why This Matters Right Now
We are living in a moment of massive transition. Businesses are restructuring. Roles are shifting. Long-standing systems are dissolving. Many leaders are quietly holding far more than they let on.
When leaders ask for help, three powerful things happen simultaneously: they protect their own nervous system, they give others permission to be human, and they strengthen the fabric of their community.
Leadership becomes stronger when support is shared.
An Invitation
If you are reading this feeling stretched thin, overwhelmed, or quietly struggling — I want you to hear this clearly:
You are allowed to ask for help. You are allowed to name what you need. You are allowed to let others show up for you.
Start small. One honest request. One conversation. One moment of letting someone else hold part of the weight.
A Final Thought
Grief taught me something no leadership book ever could: the truest form of strength is not carrying everything alone. It is knowing when to reach for support.
Leadership does not mean doing everything yourself. It means building a life, a team, and a community where no one has to carry the weight alone.
Big love,
Tricia
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