Why Asking for Help Isn't Giving Up—It's Taking Control

This content is for informational purposes only and isn't intended to serve as professional therapeutic advice or create a personal therapeutic relationship. If you're struggling with trauma, I encourage you to seek help from a qualified mental health professional who meets your unique needs - because the right therapist for you is out there.

Let me guess what's going through your head right now: "Real men handle their own problems." "I should be able to figure this out myself." "Asking for help means I'm weak."

I've heard it all, and I get it. Everything in your life has taught you that strength means going it alone, that asking for help is admitting defeat. But what if I told you that the opposite is true? What if getting help is actually the most powerful thing you can do?

The Pattern I See Every Day

There's something that happens when men first call my office. They'll spend the first ten minutes explaining why they probably don't need therapy, why they should be able to handle whatever they're dealing with on their own, and why calling me was probably unnecessary. Then they'll spend the next thirty minutes describing a life that's falling apart.

Relationships hanging by a thread. Sleep that hasn't been restful in months or years. Work performance declining. Kids who seem afraid of their anger. Hobbies that used to bring joy now feeling pointless. Feeling like strangers in their own lives. But somehow, in their minds, none of this means they actually need help. Because needing help, asking for help—that's not what men do.

The Messages That Keep Men Trapped

The messages you learned growing up about being a man probably sound familiar: "Big boys don't cry." "Tough it out." "Handle your own problems." "Don't be a burden." "Real men don't need help." Maybe your father never talked about struggles or emotions. Maybe the men in your family prided themselves on never going to doctors, never admitting when something was hard, never showing vulnerability.

These messages weren't necessarily meant to hurt you. The men who taught you these things probably learned them from their fathers, who learned them from their fathers. They were trying to prepare you for a world they believed would be harsh and unforgiving. But trauma changes the equation. The self-reliance that might serve you well in many areas of life can actually keep you trapped when you're dealing with unresolved trauma.

The Trap of Going It Alone

Here's the thing about trying to heal trauma by yourself: it's like trying to perform surgery on your own back. Even if you're skilled, even if you're determined, some things require a different perspective and steady hands that aren't shaking from their own pain. Trauma lives in isolation. It whispers that you're the only one who has ever felt this way, that no one would understand, that you're too damaged to be helped. These aren't facts—they're symptoms. And believing them keeps you stuck exactly where trauma wants you: alone and suffering.

The men who eventually make it to my office are exhausted. Not just tired—exhausted. They've been running on willpower and determination for so long that they're running on empty. They've tried everything on their own: working harder, exercising more, drinking less, sleeping more, pushing through, thinking positive, staying busy. Some strategies work for a while, but eventually, they stop working.

What "Control" Actually Means

"I feel so out of control." "I need to get control of this situation." "I should be able to control my reactions." I hear this constantly. And I understand that feeling. Trauma can make you feel like your own mind and body have turned against you. Everything you used to rely on—your ability to think clearly, to stay calm under pressure, to handle whatever life threw at you—suddenly feels unreliable.

So the natural response is to try to control everything harder. Work longer hours. Avoid certain situations. Keep people at a distance. Handle everything yourself, no matter what it costs. But here's the paradox: the men who are most focused on controlling everything often feel the most out of control. Because you can't control trauma symptoms through willpower alone. You can suppress them, you can work around them, you can exhaust yourself trying to overpower them—but you can't control them. Real control—the kind that actually works—comes from understanding what's happening and having tools to work with it. And sometimes that means getting help from someone who knows how trauma works.

Redefining Strength

Strength isn't about carrying everything on your own shoulders until they break. Real strength is recognizing when you need support and having the courage to reach for it. Think about the men you most respect. I bet they're not the ones who never asked for help—they're the ones who assembled great teams, who learned from mentors, who weren't too proud to admit when they were in over their heads. Leaders don't lead alone.

Many of the strongest men I know aren't the ones who never need help. They're the ones who assemble great teams. They're the ones who learn from people who know more than they do. They're the ones who aren't too proud to admit when they're in over their heads. The idea that asking for help is weak is actually pretty recent in human history. For most of our existence, humans survived by working together, by sharing knowledge, by supporting each other through difficult times. This idea that men should handle everything alone—that's not ancient wisdom. That's modern isolation, and it's not serving us.

The Cost of Not Getting Help

What's the price of handling it alone? Maybe it's the relationship that ended because you couldn't stop pushing her away, even though you loved her. Maybe it's watching your kids tiptoe around your moods, trying to figure out which version of Dad they're going to get today. Maybe it's the promotion you didn't get because you couldn't concentrate during the interview, or the friendships that faded because you stopped returning calls, or the activities you used to enjoy that now feel like too much effort. Maybe it's lying awake at night, replaying the same thoughts over and over, telling yourself you should be stronger than this, you should be able to figure this out.

Here's what I've observed: men who try to handle serious trauma alone often don't get better—they get better at hiding how bad they feel. And there's a big difference.

What Getting Help Actually Looks Like

I think many men avoid therapy because they have this image in their heads of what it's going to be like. Maybe they picture lying on a couch talking about their childhood while someone takes notes and judges them. That's not what trauma therapy looks like, especially not the way I practice it. When you work with a trauma-informed therapist, you start by trying to understand what's been happening to you. Your symptoms aren't signs that something is wrong with you—they're signs that your brain and body are responding to something that overwhelmed you.

You work on practical tools: breathing techniques that can calm your nervous system, ways to interrupt panic attacks, strategies for managing triggers, methods for getting better sleep. You talk about what happened, yes, but you also talk about what you want your life to look like going forward. You work on rebuilding confidence, reconnecting with people who matter to you, rediscovering activities that bring you joy. You're not a patient being treated—you're a person learning new skills. And you're not losing control by being there—you're taking it back.

Your Support Network Matters

Getting professional help doesn't mean you don't value your friends and family. But here's the truth: the people who love you are also affected by your trauma. They want to help, but they're not trained to handle it, and it's not fair to put that responsibility on them. A therapist can hold space for your pain without being overwhelmed by it. They can guide you through the healing process without getting lost in it themselves. That's not because they care less—it's because they're trained to care effectively.

Taking the First Step

The hardest part of getting help is making the first call. Everything in you might be screaming that this is wrong, that you should handle it yourself, that reaching out is admitting failure. Here's what I want you to know: that voice isn't your strength talking—it's your trauma. Your trauma wants you isolated, struggling, and suffering in silence. Don't let it win. Making that first appointment isn't giving up on yourself. It's fighting for yourself. It's saying that your life, your peace, your relationships matter enough to get the best help available. You wouldn't fix your own car if you weren't a mechanic. You wouldn't represent yourself in court if you weren't a lawyer. Why would you expect yourself to heal trauma without professional support?

The Man on the Other Side

The man who asks for help isn't weaker than the man who suffers alone—he's stronger. He's the one who gets to sleep through the night again. He's the one whose kids run to him instead of walking on eggshells around him. He's the one who can love and be loved without armor. That version of yourself is possible. The question is: are you ready to take the steps to get there?

I'm Lisa LeMaster, and I provide telehealth counseling services throughout the State of Louisiana and South Carolina.

Remember that this content is for informational purposes only and doesn't replace professional therapeutic care. If you're struggling, please reach out to a qualified mental health professional in your area who can provide the personalized support you deserve.