You Were Never Alone

For a long time, I thought I had to give everyone access.

The way I saw it, if someone needed my time, my advice, my emotional bandwidth, well of course I was there.

Maybe because I wanted to be helpful.

Maybe because I thought it was the right thing to do.

But if I'm honest, I think it's because I was afraid that if I didn't give freely, I'd somehow end up alone.

But then there's Maya Angelou, who (as always) saw it clearer than I ever could. She once said that when she walked into a room, she brought everyone who had ever been kind to her with her.

That she never entered spaces alone.

And that shifts something for me, because what if I was never alone to begin with?

What if I've always had people with me?

The silent cheerleaders, the ancestors, the ones' rooting for my rise'?

And if that's true, if I have this tribe, then maybe I don't need to give everyone access.

Maybe it's about being more deliberate about who gets access. And maybe it's about realising that I, too, can ask for help.

And here's where the universe got involved.

A few weeks ago, a brilliant, bright woman, 15 years younger than me, (which is still blowing my mind) asked me for help.

She's one of those people you just notice.

People gravitate to her. She was preparing for a big moment on stage, and I did what I love most: I was able to help her see what was already in her.

She told me she saw me as a mentor, that she admired me, which makes me simultaneously grateful and slightly uncomfortable.

But she went up there, she did the thing, and she was so proud of herself.

And afterwards, I told her, I'm really proud of you.

And then I said something that, in hindsight, I should have been saying to myself all along: I'm also really proud that you asked for help. Because there's a whole community of people who want to help you.

And the second I said it, it hit me....

I needed to hear that.

Not just intellectually, but deep in my bones.

Because right now, I'm navigating some tough stuff. Big decisions. Hard questions. Things that make me feel like I should have all the answers, but I don't.

And I don't love asking for help. It feels… exposing?

Vulnerable?

Like admitting I don't have everything perfectly under control at all times (which, I absolutely do not).

But here I was, telling this incredible woman that she wasn't alone. That she had people, that she could reach out and find support, that there was a community if she needed them.

And in that moment, I realised, I needed to believe that for myself.

Because I am not alone. I never have been.

And maybe this is me, finally saying it out loud. Maybe this is me realising, finally, that access isn't just about who I let in—it's also about who I reach out for help.

And maybe, just maybe, the universe makes sure we hear what we need, even if we have to say it to someone else first.