Lie of Self-Sufficiency

If modern culture had a slogan, it would be: “Do it yourself, or die trying.” We worship the myth of self-sufficiency like it’s a CrossFit competition. Grind harder, hustle smarter, carry your own groceries in one trip or you’re clearly unfit for survival.

But here’s the cosmic joke: nobody is truly self-sufficient. Even the most rugged, off-the-grid prepper still brags about it on the internet—using satellites, Wi-Fi, and a smartphone made by twenty different countries. Your sourdough starter only exists because someone taught you how yeast works. Your “independent” streak probably has a trail of Uber drivers, delivery people, and plumbers keeping it afloat.

We cling to self-sufficiency because dependency feels dangerous. If you admit you need people, they might let you down. They might leave. They might see the crack in your armor where you actually, embarrassingly, don’t have it all figured out. But the alternative is worse: you become the person who insists on moving a couch alone, only to end up pinned underneath it like a tragic Greek myth about pride.

Here’s the truth we all secretly know: humans are designed for interdependence. We’ve been swapping labor, care, gossip, and casserole recipes since the dawn of time. “Self-made” is the world’s most misleading label. Nobody knits their own umbilical cord.

And yet, we’re allergic to asking for help. We frame it as weakness, when really it’s one of the most courageous and practical things you can do. Asking for help is saying, “I trust you enough to see me not-perfect.” It’s also saying, “I want to make it easier on myself because I don’t believe suffering is a personality trait.”

The lie of self-sufficiency is that it makes you stronger. In reality, it just makes you lonelier and more exhausted. The real flex is knowing how to lean on people without apology. Because guess what? Other people need to lean on you, too. Refusing to accept help doesn’t just hurt you—it denies others the chance to show up, to feel useful, to participate in the messy miracle of being human together.

So maybe the bravest sentence isn’t “I can do it myself.” Maybe it’s: “Can you hold this side of the couch?”