Why is it easier to get up early morning for a run when you have a partner. Is it because somebody is waiting for you? The sound of the alarm ringing make you wanna get up a tab bit easier, putting on the shoes is easier. You are pumped to be out on a run.

But when you dont have a partner and you have to do alone. It is harder to do so.

Why is it so hard to show up for yourself, why do you show up for others easily but it comes to you its not.

Why is it so easy to sacrifice for others, and so hard to act in your own best interest?

We are who we are with

Relativity, we often relate more than we Stand on identity

We often build our self-concept the image we have of who we are based on how others see us. Psychologist Charles Cooley called this the “looking-glass self” the idea that we see ourselves reflected through the perceptions of others.

When you’re with a friend, you’re not just you. You assume a role the supportive one, the disciplined one, the runner, the reliable partner. There’s a role to play, a mirror to respond to, and an identity get made. It’s easier to take that on because the version of you who shows up already exists in someone else’s eyes.

This clarity disappears when you’re alone.

Alone, we face ourselves and that’s not always easy.

Without the reflection of others, your identity is less defined. You start getting questions such as Are you the type of person who runs in the morning? Do you finish what you start? Are you motivated or undisciplined?

These aren’t surface-level questions; they stem from a deeper sense of uncertainty, of trying to find yourself when there are no external cues to guide you.

In that empty space, self-doubt sets in.

And when that happens , action becomes war. It is not a war with the world, but turns into a war with your mind, narratives, and habits.

Support Isn’t Just a Shoulder

When we talk about support, we usually think of it as something emotional such as a hug, a kind word, someone who listens. And yes, all of that matters. But support goes deeper than just comfort, it actually shapes how we function.

Think about it: when someone’s counting on you, you move differently. There’s structure. There’s rhythm. There’s a sense of being held, not just emotionally, but practically — like rails on a staircase, guiding you upward when you’d otherwise stop halfway.

Psychologists have studied this for years:

• Social Facilitation shows that just having someone just be near you, sort like an audience. Not even helping, just there can boost how well you perform, even on simple tasks.
• Self-Determination Theory says we’re wired to crave connection. When our actions feel linked to someone else be it a a friend, a team, a community we find it easier to keep going.
• Attachment Theory reminds us that stable, safe relationships give us the internal calm to take risks and pursue our goals because we know we’re not doing it all alone.

In short, support isn’t just a nice extra. It’s often the invisible structure holding us together when we’re trying to build something new.

When we’re with others, we don’t just feel better
we move better, decide faster, and stay in the game longer.

The Harder Battle: Becoming Someone You Can Count On

But what happens when no one’s watching? When no one is waiting at the corner, tying their shoes, cheering you on?

This is where real identity work begins.

It’s not about learning to do everything alone. It’s about building a self-concept that doesn’t collapse in solitude. One that says:

“I am the kind of person who shows up — not just for others, but for me.”
“I am the kind of person who follows through, even when no one claps.”

This kind of self-trust isn’t built overnight. It often starts with small wins. One morning walk. One solo journaling session. One act of self-respect that nobody sees.

Over time, these moments become evidence of who you are.

And the mirror you once needed from others?
You begin to carry it within.

Show Up For You, Like You’d Show Up For Them

Running alone still feels like war. That hasn’t changed.

But I’ve started to make peace with it not by avoiding the war, but by choosing to become my own ally in it. The friend I needed. The one who laces up even when it’s hard. Not perfectly. Not every time. But enough to build someone I can believe in.

So ask yourself:

Who are you when no one’s watching?
And how can you become someone you’d follow — even into the fight?