You Don’t Need to Be the Strongest One All the Time

As the poet Nayyirah Waheed said, "Strength is not in how much you can hold on to, but in how much you can let go."

There's a type of exhaustion that comes from being the strong one.

The dependable one. The emotionally steady one. The one who knows how to hold space, fix the problem, stay calm under pressure, and pick up the slack.

You've worn that armour for so long, it starts to feel like skin, like your strength is your identity. Your worth is measured by how much you can bear without breaking.

However, what often goes unnoticed is that strong people get tired too.

Even the ones who look composed.
Even the ones who keep smiling.
Even the ones who know exactly what to say when someone else is struggling.

As Rainer Maria Rilke wrote, "The only journey is the one within." And within, even the strongest harbour unspoken weariness.

Strength doesn't mean you don't cry behind closed doors.

It doesn't mean you don't long for someone to ask how you're doing.

It doesn't mean you don't sometimes crave the very softness you so readily offer others.

You don't have to carry everything just because you know how.

You don't have to keep it all together just because survival once demanded it.

Being strong can become a role performed so convincingly that people forget to ask if you're okay. They assume you're invincible. They forget that even anchors rust.

And over time, you may start to believe that asking for support makes you weak. That vulnerability is a liability. That if you let the mask slip, you'll lose something: respect, love, stability.

But Brené Brown reminds us, "Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it's having the courage to show up and be seen."

The strongest thing you can do might be this:

Let someone see you when you're not okay.
Let someone hold you for once.
Let yourself be cared for without having to earn it.

Because real strength isn't stoicism, it's surrender when surrender is what you need.

It's the courage to rest.

To say "I'm not fine."

To know the difference between resilience and repression.

You don't need to be the strong one all the time.

You're allowed to fall apart.
You're allowed not to have the words.
You're allowed to need rest.

Need space.
Need softness.
Need help.

You're allowed to lean without apology.

And those who truly see you won't love you less for showing your tiredness.

They'll love you more for trusting them with your truth.