During my pranayama session today, I could almost feel another piece of my ego shatter.

It is interesting, isn’t it? I often tell my clients about the beauty of giving and receiving. I remind them how important it is to allow the natural ebb and flow of life—to give wholeheartedly, but also to receive with openness. I speak about asking for help as an act of courage and trust.

Yet, here I am, realising how hard it truly is for me.

The thought of asking for help makes me uncomfortable. It feels unfamiliar, almost unnatural. There is a subtle resistance in me, a voice that says, “You should be able to handle this on your own.” And so, I continue silently carrying the weight of things that are heavier than I admit.

For the past few months, I have been struggling with health issues. No one knows the full extent of what I’m going through—how deep the pain runs, how much it drains me. On top of that, I haven’t had regular house help for quite a while, which has thrown my daily rhythm off balance. This lack of a support system ripples through my day, leaving me with less energy for the work that truly matters.

And so I find myself in a familiar dance.

There are moments when I become the warrior—the one who says, “I don’t need anyone. I can do it all. I will keep moving forward, no matter how hard it is.”

Then, there are moments when I feel like the victim—the one who whispers, “No one really cares. No one sees how much I’m struggling. I am alone in this.”

Both sides are exhausting.

I know the Universe is teaching me a lesson here, but I haven’t fully understood it yet. Or maybe I do understand it, but I’m not ready to fully embrace it.

Deep down, I also know this is about trust.

I always believed that the Universe would provide me with what I need. I trust that what is meant for me will find its way to me. But the truth is, I have not truly learned to ask. I haven’t learned to bow down and accept the interconnectedness of giving and receiving.

Receiving is also a sacred act.

It’s an acknowledgement that we are part of something larger. That we are not meant to walk this path alone. That just as we give, we are also meant to be given to.

But I have spent so many years taking pride in being independent, in being strong, in walking my path without a mentor. I have told myself that it was empowering—that I didn’t need anyone. And in many ways, it did make me strong. But it also kept me closed. I never truly trusted anyone enough to bow down and let them guide me. I never allowed myself the softness of leaning into someone else’s support.

The path I chose has been powerful, but it has also been extremely tough. And I wonder now, maybe it is time for a different kind of strength.

The strength to receive.

To trust someone enough to share your pain. To admit, “I can’t do this alone.”
To allow the Universe to work through others, not just through signs and synchronicities.I’m also realising that I’ve had the support of people at different phases of my life, and now it’s time to truly accept it and not be so proud or guarded about it.

And as I sit with this, I also realised there is another layer to be released. It is time for me to let go of the old energy of betrayal that still lives in my body.

The betrayal I felt as a child when my father moved us from one city to another, uprooting our lives without warning.
The betrayal my mother felt when he made that decision without her consent.
The deep sense of betrayal when he passed away soon after displacing us, leaving us unanchored.
The betrayal of our grandfather and uncles—those wounds that shaped how I learned to trust, or rather, how I learned not to trust.

All of it lingers within me in the way I hold myself in this world. Perhaps it is this old, unhealed thread of betrayal that makes it so hard for me to truly lean on anyone, to believe that help will come without conditions or hurt.

Yes, the path I chose made me strong, but it also made me guarded. Now, the Universe is asking me to remember that I am part of a web, not an island. My independence does not have to mean isolation. That true balance is found not in doing it all alone, but in knowing when to let go and allow support to flow in.

And it is also asking me to now release the pride that says “I walked this path alone” and replace it with humility that says “I am willing to be held too.”

It’s not easy. My mind still resists. My ego still wants to say, “I’ve got this.” But my heart is slowly whispering something different. telling me, “You don’t have to carry it all.”

So today, I’m sitting with this lesson. I’m allowing it to unravel gently within me.

Slowly, I am accepting it in the true sense that asking for help is not weakness,
It is trust!
It is a connection!
It is an invitation for love to flow in unexpected ways.

Maybe you have felt this too.

Maybe you have carried the weight of doing it all, believing you’re strong because you don’t need anyone. Or maybe you’ve felt the exhaustion of holding everything together and still wondering why no one notices your struggle.

If you have been there, I want to ask you the same question I’m asking myself today:

What would it feel like to allow yourself to receive?
To trust that you’re not meant to walk this path alone?

Sometimes, the most courageous thing we can do is to accept, “I need help.”