Have you ever made a decision and immediately think to yourself, “That was a dumb idea”? Of course, we all have. I was smacked upside the head with this thought recently when my family decided to move.

At the time, my wife was eight months pregnant, our daughter was shy of 3 years old, and we had 24 hours to move everything. But that wasn’t the kicker. For as long as I can remember, I’ve hated moving. It takes forever, it’s mentally draining, and it’s physically exhausting.

So, all things considered, this wasn’t a good time.

My first plan was to wipe my hands clean and hire movers. But a charismatic friend insisted that I accept his help. I begrudgingly said “yes.”

See, if I have to move myself, I would prefer to go solo. Like a brave warrior sacrificing himself to save the village, I was “selflessly” sparing others from this miserable task.

The night before moving day came and it was time to pick up the rental van. When I arrived at the after-hours pickup location, I discovered that the van didn’t have a key. After a long phone conversation with the rental company, I had no choice but to drive 20 minutes out of my way to pick up a different van if we wanted one that night (moving takes forever—check).

In a rotten mood, I arrive at the new location and finally get a key. I stick it into the door lock of the new van and… it’s the wrong key. It’s actually the key to a different van parked nearby.

With smoke billowing from my ears, I look to my wife sitting patiently in the car and bark, “I’m taking this!” I turn the ignition and blaze off in my stolen rental van (moving is mentally draining—check).

Just a few hours in and I’m already at my breaking point (and technically a felon). My stoicism wasn’t working. Whether I wanted it or not, I needed help.

It was in that humbling moment that things began to change. It started with my aunt dropping by unexpectedly to help with the first load.

Then, jumping to the next day, it was followed by a friend opting to use her day off from work to help my wife open boxes and get things organized at the new house. And finally, by mid-afternoon when I’m staring at the last load of furniture and I can no longer lift my arms (moving is physically exhausting—check), two of my buddies arrive and give me a break.

It’s easy to get hard-nosed and go solo when times get tough. But perhaps all that does is reinforce bad experiences and preconceived notions.

When you take on a challenge with others, particularly friends and family, it can not only get easier, but you may come to realize that the obstacle isn’t that bad after all.

In the end, moving wasn’t the dumb idea. It was the idea that I should take on all of life’s challenges on my own.

Oh, and the van? Yeah, thanks to my wife’s levelheadedness, she got it all worked out with the rental company. Prison time avoided.