I’m being left behind again, a resigned inner voice noted as the group I visited Teotihuacan with moved forward much faster than I could manage. My hips ached, my breathing wasn’t sucking enough air, and the sun sapped my energy. Still, I plodded along behind, knowing movement, even slowly, was the only way.

Then they stopped, and I breathed easier, OK, I can make it there. As I about reached them, they moved again.

I cried.

Well, I cried and kept moving. At least I could see them. And then, Ruthie came back to walk with me. With apologies and validation, she hooked her hand around my right elbow and walked with me toward the larger group.

As we walked together, I began to feel unstable, as if I might topple over to the right without notice. With each step, I began to understand this is what well-meaning help can do. When others provide help without consulting the person they’re helping, they can unintentionally pull the person over.

“Could you please let go,” I asked.

“Sure,” came the swift reply accompanied by a release of my elbow and a restoration of balance.

Those two lines were the extent of the conversation Ruthie and I had about the moment; it resolved calmly and without fuss. That swift resolution took both of us. I figured out what wasn’t working and ask for a change. Ruthie allowed me to decide how I could best be helped at that moment.

We were walking in Teotihuacan four days later toward the Pyramid of the Sun, and once again, I fell behind. Kimberly joined me at the group’s rear with a “Can I walk with you?”

“Sure,” I said.

As Ruthie had done earlier in the week, Kimberly linked our elbows. I quickly felt the tilt and knew the arrangement needed adjustment. This time, not being exhausted and about to fall out, I identified the pulling and was able to request and shift in position.

“So, can we shift this, so I’m holding on to you instead?” I asked.

“OK,” came Kimberly’s reply. We paused to rearrange ourselves and then proceeded on our way.

I don’t know Kimberly’s experience of that stroll, but I felt so seen and supported. Regarding mobility, there’s a vast difference in the felt experience of moving while being held and moving while holding.

In the four weeks since I returned home, I connected the experienced difference between being held and holding on to Rachel Naomi Remen’s lesson on Helping, Fixing, or Serving?.

After staring out a lot of van windows and hobbling around my house, I landed on this distinction between helping and supporting.

Helping, what happened when the women grabbed my arm, activated those parts of me that too often feel as if they have no choice. Someone holding on to me while we’re moving becomes the director able to pull me this way and that. The intention isn’t bad. It just assumes the person providing the help knows what the receiver needs better than the receiver.

Supporting, what happened when I held on to the support offered, helped me feel stable and seen. I controlled when I held on and when I let go. In these moments, both the supporter and the supported can be seen.

The difference between helping and supporting is the difference between being pulled by a rope anchored to your wrist and holding on to a hand rail.

Is there a time and place for more directive action? Sure. When you’re asked for it or when it’s offered, and someone agrees to consider it.

The week in Mexico brought so many things to the fore, and this one helped to root the importance of asking those I want to show up for in helpful ways what they need and be able to work within their answer. Or, be honest about it, express that I don’t know enough to know what to do there, and create a path where they can get support from someone who can be helpful.