The Lesson I Brought Home From Kilimanjaro: Why Asking for Help Matters

The first thing I noticed when I got home from Kilimanjaro was convenience.  A cold drink from the fridge.  A hot shower.  Fresh sheets.  A takeaway delivered right to my door.  A friend showing up with champagne to celebrate.  I didn't have to earn any of it, it seemingly just was.

These little luxuries just existed for me - no questions asked.  And yet, on the mountain, every small comfort felt like something I had to fight for, or worse, feel embarrassed about accepting.  The thought hit me hard, and with it an unnerving question - had I been reinforcing the stigma of asking for help?

Why We Refuse Help When We Need It Most

On the mountain, our group instinctively rejected support.  Diamox (mountain sickness medicine) to help with altitude?  Refused until the last minute.   Porters offering to carry our heavy packs?  Embarrassing, almost insulting.

But why?  In our everyday lives, we don’t think twice about accepting help. Yet when we’re at our most vulnerable, when help could literally mean the difference between success and failure, we hesitate.

Part of it is pride.  We set out with a purpose: to push our limits and climb Africa’s highest peak. There’s something very human about wanting to do it on your own terms, to prove to yourself that you can.  But pride is a funny thing, isn't it?  Even as our hands shook, our knees buckled, and our heads spun, “I’m fine” was the default answer to “Are you okay?”

Privilege and Perspective

There was another layer too: guilt.

We were nine privileged climbers, each with multiple porters supporting us.  Around forty Tanzanians carried our gear, cooked fresh meals, set up camp, even dusted the dirt off our boots, just to give us the chance to summit.  When people called us “brave” or “courageous,” it was impossible not to feel the sting of perspective.  What was an adventure of a lifetime for us was daily living for them.

When you’re carrying around that much privilege, asking for help starts to feel… well, kind of pathetic, to be frank.  It's hard to ask for help when you think you don't deserve it, or you think that others deserve it more than you.

The Stigma of Help

Here’s the thing: it’s easy to ask for the small stuff. On the trail, we constantly shared sunscreen, painkillers, Haribos, lip balms, and words of encouragement. No shame there.

But when it came to asking for help at breaking point?  That’s when the stigma set in.  No one wanted to be the weak link, no one wanted to slow the group down, no one wanted to admit they couldn’t carry their own load.  And yet, that’s exactly when help is most needed.

My Breaking Point

On summit night, I hit my wall.  I clearly looked weak and I was told to give my rucksack over to a porter - I instantly felt the crushing weight of embarrassment.  The group had to slow down for me.  I fucking hated it.

Then something shifted - the sun rose over the mountain, the group rallied with encouragement, and I realised: I would not have made it without that moment of vulnerability.  Help wasn’t a weakness, it was the reason I reached the top.

The Real Takeaway

So when’s the right time to ask for help? 

The truth is: always, but especially when it feels hardest to do so.  Push yourself, test your resilience, keep climbing your mountains - literal or metaphorical - but know when it’s no longer safe to do it alone.   Real strength isn’t about refusing help, it's about recognising when you need it, and being brave enough to accept it.

Kilimanjaro taught me that. And it’s a lesson I don’t want to forget -

Be strong.  Be fearless.  Climb mountains.  But also, be vulnerable - because it takes a village to get you to the top, and that’s more than okay.

Author

Mica Maurtua         

Business Development Manager

The Burnt Chef Project