“When the Helper Needs Help”

A Reflection on the Hardest Ask I’ve Ever Made

I recently read a powerful piece by my friend Cameron Cushman titled, “The Hardest Truth I’ve Had to Face: You Can’t Save Everyone” (https://www.linkedin.com/posts/cameron-cushman_veterans-purpose-storytelling-activity-7318985406673235968-znKE ) It hit me right in the chest. His words brought up a flood of memories—and one of the most difficult lessons I’ve ever had to learn myself: what it feels like to be the helper… who needs help.

There’s a moment I’ll never forget as a chaplain—sitting beside a total stranger in crisis, and watching them take that courageous leap to open up. I was always humbled that they would trust me, a relative stranger, with something so raw, so personal, so real. I admired them, truly, for having the strength to say, “I need help.”

But I never realized how hard that moment really is—until it was me in the chair.

When my dad reached the evening of his life, I found myself in a place I had never been before: I wasn’t the helper—I was the one who desperately needed help. And not the kind of help where you just need a boost and then carry on. No, this was the kind of pain where I didn’t know what to do… and even if I had known, I didn’t think I had the strength to do it.

And here’s the wild part—I had no shortage of support. Chaplains I trusted. A wife and family who loved me. Friends who would’ve dropped anything to be there. And a commander and first sergeant who, looking back, set a gold standard I’ll never forget.

When I finally made the call, one of the first people I reached out to was my first sergeant. Together, he and my commander at the time, Col Blaine Baker, moved heaven and earth to make sure I could be at my dad’s bedside for the final two months of his life. They didn’t treat it like a personnel issue—they treated it like family.

But what still moves me the most were the phone calls. Col Baker didn’t just check in to ask if I was okay—he talked with me. He shared his own experience of losing his dad. He didn’t give me a pep talk. He gave me presence. He gave me connection. And in doing so, he gave me strength when I didn’t have any of my own.

I also called fellow chaplains like Jim Wilson, PhD, BCCRC, CCTP, EMDR trained and Mindi Russell —when I needed a chaplain. My family stepped in without hesitation. My best friend called and talked about fishing when I needed my mind anywhere but grief. My wife and daughter surprised me with an 8-hour drive just to hug me. They all carried a load I couldn’t bear alone.

And through it all, I realized something I now carry with me every day:

Asking for help doesn’t weaken a relationship—it deepens it.

Love isn’t transactional. Relationships aren’t bank accounts with limited withdrawals. In fact, by letting others pour into me, I gave them a gift too: the trust of my vulnerability. And it turns out, they were grateful for the chance to show up.

That experience changed how I live. I still lead Bold Face Fly Fishing Foundation Inc.(501c3) , but now I also go on Project Healing Waters trips as a participant(They're amazing!). I call friends on hard days. I let others pour into me. And I’ve learned that in healthy relationships, it’s not just my resources being invested into someone else. It’s everything others have poured into me, now overflowing into someone else.

I now see it like a joint account. Sometimes you deposit strength. Sometimes you withdraw support. But what matters isn’t who puts in or takes out—it’s that we share. That we stay in it together.

So if you’re the helper, the strong one, the go-to for others… let me just say:

It’s okay to need help.

It’s okay to not have it all together.

And it’s more than okay to let others love you through it.

Because you might just find that you’re not the only one grateful for that ask.