I needed a new bookshelf. It could have been easy had I not been so dead set on doing it all myself.

I thought I was so smart– I bought the shelf and had it delivered to my car so I didn’t have to pick it up by myself. I parked in the garage and grabbed a cart so I could get it to my front door. As I’m holding the cart with my foot and unlocking my door with my left hand, Starbucks secured in my right hand, an attractive man carrying his own armload of groceries, comes down the hallway.

“Do you need help?”

I, feeling the cart start to tip and clearly in need of help, say: “Oh no, I’m fine…” as the cart completely tips, sending the coffee sailing and my hand smashing into the wall.

“Jesus, I’m just going to help you.”

After lugging said large shelf into my apartment, with help (rolls eyes), I had a lot of time to think while putting it together. In more subtle ways the universe has been attempting to humble my new-found hyper-independence. And then today it truly came crashing down. I tend to forget that everyone has needs that can’t be met without help and I’m not immune. I think that one of my biggest struggles during my year of self-reflection is going to be my own tendency to dichotomize. I’m either independent or dependent, no gray area. But as with everything, finding a balance is critical… or you end up with a tipped over shelf and smashed fingers, all in the name of independence.