Support Without Strings? Prove it

We all think we’re being helpful—until the person we helped doesn’t show up the way we hoped.

That’s when you realize: your support may have come with strings attached.

A few years ago, I walked out of a car dealership—not because I didn’t like the car, but because I didn’t like how I felt.

I had seen the car online. I showed up with clarity and purpose. I was ready to buy.

Instead, I was met with a pushy, over-scripted sales pitch that completely ignored what I wanted. The salesperson kept redirecting the conversation, interrupting me, talking like I didn’t know what I was there for.

I didn’t lose my temper. I just cut it short and left.

But driving away, I noticed something else: I wasn’t just annoyed by the guy—I was insulted. I felt dismissed. I was angry because I had made up a story:

“He doesn’t respect me.”

"He thinks I’m just another clueless customer.”

He didn’t say any of that. But I believed it.

Most of the time, what we think we see in others is just a reflection of something unresolved in us.

What I saw in him was a reflection of something unresolved in me—a sensitivity to being dismissed, a need to be acknowledged, a fast trigger around control.

And that same pattern shows up in leadership all the time.

This week, I heard a story from a client that hit the same nerve.

Jane had spent months mentoring a colleague, Susana, who was going through a tough personal and professional phase. With Jane’s support, Susana grew a lot—emotionally, mentally, and as a leader. Jane was proud. She saw herself as someone who truly made a difference.

Then Susana moved into a new role—one with more responsibility and new challenges. Under pressure, she started reverting to some of her old habits—defensiveness, rigid thinking, and control.

But Jane didn’t see it that way.

She got angry. Loudly. She told Susana she had thrown everything away.

That the work they did was useless. That she had gone backwards.

At first, Jane said she was just disappointed. Then she admitted she felt hurt. Eventually, she revealed what was underneath:

“I put so much into helping her. It’s like it didn’t matter.”

That’s the hook.

The expectation is that support should lead to transformation, that our effort should be reflected in someone else’s behavior.

That if they grow, it validates us. And if they don’t, we take it personally.

But leadership doesn’t work like that.

You can care deeply. You can give generously. But you can’t control the pace or shape of someone else’s growth.

What Jane hadn’t yet seen was this: True leadership doesn’t demand proof. And real service doesn’t require validation.

Her value wasn’t tied to Susana’s behavior. Her impact wasn’t erased because someone wobbled under pressure.

That was just a story she told herself—born from a very human need to feel appreciated.

And that’s where many strong leaders get tripped up.

We pour energy into others. We coach, we support, we advocate. But if we’re not careful, we can start giving with a hidden expectation: “Now prove to me it was worth it.”

The moment you need someone else’s transformation to affirm your value, you’ve stopped giving—and started keeping score.

Here’s what it looks like when help comes with a hook:

• You feel disappointed when someone doesn’t apply your advice.

• You over-identify with someone else’s growth—or failure.

• You replay conversations, waiting for the thank-you that never came.

• You feel resentful when others don’t acknowledge your effort.

• You tell yourself, “After everything I’ve done for them…”

If any of that sounds familiar, you’re not alone.But it’s a sign that your giving might be mixed with something else—a quiet need to feel needed.

To give and to receive are one in truth.

Give because it’s who you are. Serve because you care.

And if it stings when someone doesn’t respond the way you hoped, don’t lash out. Look in.

Ask yourself: Did I offer support—or did I offer a silent contract?

Before blaming others for your feelings, pause and check the lens.

You might not need to be louder.

You might just need to let go.

Until next time 👋🏼

Love 💙Roberto

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