Are Some of Us Naturally Inclined to Manage Things on Our Own?
Were we born independent or have our solo lives made us this way?
As I drove from the Oregon coast toward Corvallis yesterday, taking my friend Pat to the airport shuttle for her trip back to California, I knew I probably wasn’t up to driving for almost three hours on the highway I last saw from the back of an ambulance.
As I drove east half blinded by the early morning sun, I couldn’t help reliving the fear and discomfort of that trip on my way to the cardiac unit three weeks earlier. It didn’t help that I had slept poorly and was dangerously sleepy.
But I was the one who, when timing and rides from other friends weren’t working out, said, “Never mind, I’ll drive you.”
It was too much. I was wiped out the rest of the day.
In fact, I shouldn’t have been playing hostess this month. I was not up to it yet. But did I say no?
I was also the one who insisted on picking up my own prescriptions at the Fred Meyer pharmacy this week. I could name at least six people who would have gladly done it for me, but no, there I was, huffing and puffing, wanting to tell the much older woman sitting on the only chair in the entryway to get up and let me sit down. I didn’t. Nor did I rest in the pharmacy waiting area. I didn’t have time. Pat needed me to pick her up at the car rental agency. Somebody else could have done that, too.
Why am I so danged independent? Am I the only one, or are you nodding your head because you do the same thing?
In a March 2026 article at Bolde, writer Danielle Sachs talks about how she usually does things on her own and doesn’t even think about asking for help. She discusses ways people who are comfortable handling life alone may differ from others.
She says we may feel we need to justify our place in the world by not being a burden or making waves, but we’re also proud of all the things we can do on our own.
That sounds about right to me. I’m not likely to ask for or want help with things I can do myself. I have trouble understanding people who are always asking for help.
For example, when my late husband Fred was alive and well, he would happily do the laundry, but whenever a sheet or tablecloth needed folding, he called for assistance. He needed to fold as a team, much like military people and Scouts fold the American flag, one fold at a time, gradually coming together in the middle. I have never felt the need to do that. I grab an end in each hand and fold. Are my linens perfectly folded? Rarely, but I don’t see the need for help. Even if the house was full of other people, I wouldn’t ask.
I grew up doing things on my own, not as a team. I don’t need another person to help me make a salad, fold the laundry, or wash the car. Others seem to operate differently. In fact, they seem to have fun doing things together. Me, I’m thinking get out of my way and let me do it. This attitude sometimes annoys people.
The other night, when I was making dinner for Pat, I got out the stepstool to access a crystal salad bowl I hadn’t used in ages. I’m still recuperating from my hospital stay and probably should not have been hanging off a stepstool holding a heavy bowl, but I did it anyway.
“Need any help?” Pat asked as I started cooking. “Nope,” I said. Another person might have said, “Sure, can you make the salad?” Not me.
What’s up with that?
After talking with therapists, Sachs compiled a list of characteristics we independent types seem to have in common.
We have to justify taking up space by not being a burden or requiring too much.
We see needing people as a form of weakness. The less needy we are, the more welcome we will be among other people.
Counting on ourselves is the most reliable option. We can’t depend on anyone but ourselves.
Being low maintenance is the safest version of ourselves.
We believe that connection comes more easily to other people. This makes me think of people who say they’re not good at math. If you believe you’re not good at relationships, it feels safer to be alone.
Handling things is something to feel proud of. Sachs writes, “People who study resilience and self-reliance have found that when someone spends years handling things alone, the handling itself becomes part of how they see themselves—and accepting help starts to feel less like relief and more like giving something up.”
Being alone offers a freedom most people don’t have.
We believe the version of ourselves we show should be self-contained. We do not want the world to see us as less than capable and together.
The quiet life we’ve built is genuinely enough. It’s different, but not second best.
These are fascinating to me. As someone who grew up depending on myself, I have to wonder where that came from? Were my parents just as self-sufficient? Did I learn to manage things on my own because I didn’t feel like I could ask for help? Did I get this way by spending so many years on my own? By having friends and partners who let me down? By being disappointed too many times? By being stubborn and proud, as I have heard from friends during my illness. Don’t be so stubborn; let us help you.
I don’t know. I probably need to take this up with a therapist. But there is a big part of me that feels I really can do most things alone. I certainly don’t need help folding my sheets or making dinner—except when illness forces me to sit down and let other people step in.
I am getting a smidge better at asking for help. I took Pat with me when I finally got to see a doctor on Wednesday for my post-hospital check. This doctor was new to me, but very thorough. The original problem, fluid around my heart, which led to pericarditis, an inflammation of the lining around the heart, seems to be easing, and I am slowly getting my energy back, but several items in my lab tests are concerning. My thyroid is way off, and I have become anemic. Time and new medications may help—or not. Stay tuned.
It was nice to not be sitting alone in the silent examining room waiting for the doctor. It also helps to have a witness to help make clear to the doctor what’s going on and to discuss later what the doctor said.
I have dubbed friends who accompany us to medical appointments “medi-buddies.” I think we all need them, even if we’re independent as hell. A live friend is much more comforting than another round of solitaire on the mobile phone as you wait alone surrounded by medical equipment in a room that is far too bright and too silent for the scary thoughts going through your mind.
(By the way, my Spider Solitaire winning streak is up to ninety days now.)
Don’t tell anyone I stood on a chair yesterday to hang a clock I decided needed to be in a different place. Would I ever call someone to do that for me? Not as long as my arms and legs work.
Let’s Talk
Do you tend to do things on your own even when you don’t have to? Is this by necessity or personality? Did you have to develop independence after losing a partner, or was it always your preference? How often do you think of asking for help? Or accepting help when it’s offered? How do you feel about Sach’s list of personality traits?
How did I end up alone? My first marriage ended in divorce. My second husband died of Alzheimer’s after we had moved to the Oregon coast, far from family. I never had any kids, only dogs and cats. Now I live by myself in a big house in the woods. You can read our story in my memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, available at your favorite bookseller.
I almost never ask for help. I think people are born with this independent character,for me it’s usually quicker and more efficient to do things myself,I’m fiercely independent
I don't think people are born with the characteristic to manage life independently. It's a learned behavior, so at some point, we decide, for many of the reasons you listed, to do things on our own.
In my case, as a child, I learned from expectations and language that my value in my family was determined by my productivity. My parents were often unreliable, but expected me to do exactly what I was told or be punished. By age 12, I was cooking, caring for my younger sister, and keeping our home clean.
It has been a burden much of my life, and at 67, I am learning to ask for help.