On the Matter of Asking for Help (Without Feeling Like a Burden)

Well now. You’ve stumbled into Krotchett’s corner—either out of desperation, curiosity, or poor mouse control. Whichever it was, welcome. I’m here to offer the sort of advice you’d get from that neighbor who knows a little too much about everyone on the block but still brings you soup when you’re laid up.

Let’s start with something I hear too often from my fellow seasoned citizens:

“I hate to ask for help. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Let me be clear: this “burden” business is a load of baloney, and I’ve been around long enough to know what actual burdens look like. (Spoiler: it’s not you asking for a ride to the pharmacy or help filling out a benefits form.)

We grew up in a world that drilled independence into our bones. Fine. But there’s a difference between being independent and being stubborn to the point of suffering. Independence doesn’t mean isolation. You can hold your own and still reach out. You don’t earn a medal for suffering in silence.

You know what’s actually helpful? Letting people help. Your kids, your neighbors, your church group—they want to help, and sometimes they don’t know how. Give them the chance. It keeps them human. And if it’s not them, there are agencies, nonprofits, even volunteers with clipboards and confused smiles who are paid to help you fill out Medicaid forms or find subsidized housing. I should know—I once married one. We divorced, but that’s another column.

Here’s the Krotchett Rule of Thumb: if it takes you more than 30 minutes to figure out how to do a thing—be it paperwork, online forms, or figuring out how your prescription wound up costing $118 when it was $6 last month—you’re allowed to ask for help. No guilt. No shame. Just common sense.

Look, this part of life isn’t always easy. The world wasn’t exactly built for people who remember dial-up internet and rotary phones. But that doesn’t mean you fade into the wallpaper. You have a right to be here, to be heard, and to get what you’re owed—whether that’s assistance with rent, a free meal, or just someone to explain what in God’s name a “patient portal” is.

You’ve paid into this system your whole life. Now it’s time to collect. Don’t apologize for that. Just lean in, find the help you need (this site is a good start), and remember: the only real burden is not letting yourself live with a bit more ease.

Now go on. Make that call. Fill out the form. Ask the question.

elp.