Dear Rising Soul is a podcast about healing, self-awareness, and returning to yourself.
Hosted by Naomi Carr, this show explores the deeper patterns that shape our lives — including fear, conditioning, responsibility, relationships, inner peace, and self-trust.
Through honest storytelling and reflective conversations, Naomi shares insights from her own healing journey and the work she teaches through the Return to Self Academy.
While understanding conditioning is an important part of healing, this podcast also explores the deeper, soul-led aspects of growth — including intuition, energy, and reconnecting with the inner wisdom that guides transformation.
These conversations are an invitation to slow down, reflect, and remember who you are beneath the roles and patterns you were taught to carry.
Why is it so hard to receive love, help, money, kindness, or support?
In this deeply personal conversation, I explore how fierce independence can begin as protection and slowly turn into isolation. I share the moment I realized that my struggle to receive was not strength. It was armor built from the belief that needing others was unsafe.
Together, we look at self-reliance, fear of indebtedness, emotional walls, and the patterns that make us refuse what is freely offered. We also explore how to begin receiving without guilt, fear, or the need to immediately give something back.
Learning to receive is not weakness. It is allowing yourself to trust that you are worthy of love, support, kindness, and abundance.
Welcome to Dear Soul Rising, a sanctuary for remembering, rising, and reconnecting with the deeper wisdom within you. This is a space for the deeper conversations, the ones many of us didn't grow up having. I'm your host, Naomi Carr. Has someone ever tried to do something kind for you and your first instinct was to say no? To wave it off, deflect it. Insist you were fine. For so many of us, giving comes easily. It's receiving that's hard. Today I want to talk about why. Because for most of my life I was someone who would give endlessly, but could barely let anything in. Not help, not money. And I told myself that was independence. That was strength. But it wasn't. It was armor. And today we are going to talk about what is underneath it. When I was eighteen years old I left my parents' home, and the courage it took to do that, and the alienation that followed set something in motion in me that I carried for most of my adult life. I knew from a young age that I couldn't count on my parents to protect me, and when I chose to leave and they met me with disapproval and walls to keep me out, something in me decided that I would never need anyone again, not a dime, not a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on. I became fiercely independent. I never wanted to owe anyone anything. Even the idea of an electrical bill or a mortgage unsettled me. The thought of being indebted, even to a bank, felt like something I couldn't breathe inside of. I wanted to be free, untouchable, someone who needed nothing from no one. And for a long time I thought that was strength. What I didn't see, what took me years to understand, is that there is a particular kind of loneliness that comes with living on an island alone. You build the walls to protect yourself, and then one day you look around and you realize no one can get in. You've done life entirely by yourself, and the independence you were so proud of has become a cage. These last years have asked me to face that head on. Recently something happened that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. My husband and I were leaving Home Depot when I noticed a man struggling to get some equipment into his car. We got into our truck and I couldn't stop thinking about him. I looked back and he was still struggling. I told my husband maybe we should offer to drive the equipment wherever he needed to go. So we did. We drove across the city to his home. When we got there the man tried to pay my husband. My husband said no, it was our pleasure. But the man wouldn't have it. A moment later there was a knock on my window. I rolled it down and he shoved a hundred dollar bill toward me. And like my husband, I said no. But he was persistent, and in that moment something quietly told me you both are struggling to receive. So I took the money, I thanked him, and later I thanked the universe for the abundance. Because it wasn't about a hundred dollars, it was about what I had been saying no to my whole life, and finally choosing differently. And this time it didn't feel so horrible, so threatening to receive. I heard the message and I extended my hand. The first reason we struggle to receive is because somewhere along the way we learned that needing people was dangerous. Maybe someone you depended on let you down. Maybe love was inconsistent. Someone was there one moment and gone the next. Maybe you were the child who figured out early that it was safer to handle things yourself than to ask and be disappointed. And so you became the person who never asks, who always says, I'm fine, who would rather struggle quietly alone than reach out a hand. And the world rewarded you for it, called you strong, capable, called you independent like it was a compliment. But what that conditioning really taught you was this. I cannot trust people with my needs. And what people don't always understand is that the wall doesn't come down when someone loves you. You can be in a relationship, married, partnered, surrounded by people who genuinely want to be close to you and still be living on your island, still keeping people at arm's length. Because love asks something of you that the wound was specifically designed to prevent. Love asks you to be seen in your need, to allow someone to hold you, to let them show up for you without immediately pulling away or insisting you're fine. And all of that feels too risky. And when I don't need anyone becomes your mantra, receiving love can feel just as threatening as receiving anything else. Sometimes. And so instead of learning to receive, you learned to refuse, and you got so good at refusing that eventually it stopped feeling like a choice. It just became who you were, the person on the island, managing everything and needing nothing, until the loneliness of that island became too loud to ignore. The second reason is the belief often buried so deep we don't even recognize it, that receiving creates a debt, that if someone helps you you owe them, that if someone loves you generously, there will eventually be a cost, that kindness is never really free, and so you say no before they can say yes. You deflect the compliment, refuse the help, you push back the money because owing nothing feels safer than owing something. And sometimes it goes even deeper than that. Sometimes receiving arrives wrapped in grief in what someone left behind, and the guilt of that is its own kind of weight. But here is what I want you to hear. Whether it is a hundred dollars from a stranger, help from a friend, or love from someone who simply wants to give it to you. Receiving is not a transaction, it is not weakness, it is not debt. It is trust, it is allowing. It is saying I am worth being given to. And there is something else we don't often see. When we refuse to receive, we are not only protecting ourselves, we are robbing the giver of their blessing, because giving is a gift to the one who gives it. There is a joy in blessing someone else, in being the reason something good landed in their life. And every time we wave that away, we quietly take that joy from them. My husband knew this when he said it was our pleasure. He wasn't just being kind, he was receiving something too. And receiving is your birthright. The soul is teaching you this through your experiences. We are taught that life is hard, that we have to struggle and suffer, that this is how life works, but it isn't so. When we can start to understand and see that the universe is generous and loving, and that it is our conditioning that makes us cut off the direct flow of abundance, life starts to open up in ways we could never imagine. Trust replaces a fear of indebtedness, the need to struggle alone, and the armor of fierce independence. We start to allow our needs to be met from a place of worthiness. Receiving is something you have to learn, and like anything you were ever taught, it starts small and it is uncomfortable. It starts with letting a compliment land without immediately deflecting it, without saying, oh, it was nothing, or you're too kind, and shifting the attention away from yourself as quickly as possible. It starts with saying thank you and letting that be enough. It starts with asking for help before you are desperate, before you have exhausted yourself trying to handle everything alone, before the weight becomes unbearable, asking when you simply need and trusting that needing is not a burden you should apologize for. It starts with noticing the moment you feel the unease rise up and want to say no to the kindness, the offer, the love, and pausing long enough to ask yourself, is this protection or is this a pattern? And when it is a pattern, choosing differently. Even when it feels uncomfortable, even when every part of you wants to pull back. It's in learning to remain open just long enough to let something in. And if this is something you struggle with, I've created a meditation on YouTube called The Receiving Mind to help you begin retraining this pattern. And all of this is what the practice builds over time. Not just the capacity to receive, but the quiet, growing belief that you are worth receiving, that good things are allowed to find you, that you don't have to earn the good that comes to you, that the universe is not setting a trap every time something beautiful arrives at your door. You are not learning to need people, you are learning to trust that it is safe too. And I will offer you the soul musing to sit with. Where does a struggle to receive show up most in your life? Is it with love, with help, with money, with kindness? And what does your deflection tell you about what you believe you deserve? Can you trace it back? Where did you first learn that needing people was unsafe? Or that receiving always came with a cost? And what is one small way you can practice receiving this week? It doesn't have to be perfect or grand, just differently than you have before. And before you go, if this episode spoke to something in you, I want to offer you a place to keep going. I've created a free bundle called A Guided Return to Unconditional Self-Love, a guided workbook and audio practice to help you begin doing this work more deeply. Consider it my gift to you. And maybe if receiving is hard for you, letting yourself take it is the first small practice. You will find it linked in the show notes. And if this resonated with you, follow the show so you don't miss the next episode. Because I truly believe that when we begin healing ourselves, we create more compassion, more understanding, and ultimately a better world for everyone. With so much love, I'll see you in the next episode, dear soul.
