Over Christmas break, my 10-year-old got a little crochet kit- one of those cute “make your own animal” sets that looks deceptively simple until you’re actually holding the yarn…

She opened it immediately, spread everything out, and got to work. She’s always been fiercely independent (she’s the youngest of four, and I think she learned early that waiting for help can be… inefficient). I still remember her preschool teachers praising her for being the only one who could get all her snow gear on by herself.

So naturally, she decided she would learn crochet the same way: on her own.

She cast on the stitches, started the first row… and got stuck.

She tried again. Same spot. Same problem.

By the third attempt, she was spiraling into frustration. Not because she wasn’t trying hard enough, but because she was trapped in that awful loop we all recognize:

I’m doing what the instructions say… so why isn’t this working?

I offered to help. She resisted. (Of course she did.)
She wanted to prove she could do it all by herself, even though she could feel herself repeating the same pattern over and over again.

Eventually, she handed it to me, and I looked at it with fresh eyes.

The issue wasn’t effort. It wasn’t ability. It wasn’t even the instructions.

It was a tiny misinterpretation. The kind that’s almost impossible to catch when you’re inside your own frustration.

I showed her what the directions meant (not just what they said), demonstrated it once, and handed it back.

And I watched her face shift in real time from I hate this, this is impossible to wait… I get it. I can do this.

She finished the little stuffed chicken entirely on her own after that.

(If you want the longer version of this story, I shared it on Substack here)

And I’ve been thinking about it ever since, because the truth is:

Sometimes we don’t need more willpower.
We don’t need more information.
We don’t even need a better plan.

Sometimes we just need another set of eyes.

What the research says

1) Many people want help and support, but hesitate to seek it- many of us are convinced we need to do it alone.​

Help-seeking isn’t just about access. It’s also about the internal barriers: stigma, self-reliance, fear of judgment, and the belief that we “should” be able to handle things alone. Stigma and self-reliance can both impact how we feel about stress AND whether we reach out for help.

2) Social support literally helps us cope better with stress- we need that person sitting next to us!

Social support serves as a “buffer.” When life is stressful, supportive relationships can protect our wellbeing, not by removing the stressor, but by changing how we experience it and recover from it.

So the very thing that would make stress feel more manageable is often the thing we hesitate to reach for. So let’s change that, starting today…

Tip of the week: The “One Small Ask” experiment

Take 2 minutes and ask yourself:

Where am I stuck in a loop right now?
(The thing I keep trying to “power through,” but it isn’t getting better.)

Then try this:

Make one small ask this week

Not a huge one. Not a dramatic one. Just a real one.

Examples:

“Can you look at this and tell me what I’m missing?”

“Can you help me make a decision I’ve been avoiding?”

“Can you take one thing off my plate this week?”

“Can you remind me what you see in me, because I’m losing the thread a little?”

Sometimes the smallest shift is all it takes.

And if your “small ask” is… bigger support

If you’re stuck in a loop right now- the same pressure, the same overthinking, the same “I should be able to handle this” feeling…

You don’t need more willpower. You need another set of eyes.

That’s exactly why I run my Ambitious Mothers Mastermind- a group program for mothers: a structured space to be guided, reflected back to, and supported by women who get it — so you don’t have to do the hard parts alone.

I’m filling up the March cohort now, most likely the last one until the Fall. Curious? Just reply to this email or fill out an interest form here. I would LOVE to have you join us this spring.

Talk soon,
Anne

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