The Weight of Strength When You're Standing Alone

The Weight of Strength When You're Standing Alone People love to glorify strength. They say, You’re so strong, like it’s something to be proud of, something heroic. But what they don’t understand is that sometimes strength isn’t a choice. It’s survival. I didn’t grow up with a safety net. I don’t have a family to call when life gets heavy. No one to vent to late at night when my mind won’t quiet down. No arms waiting to catch me if I fall. I’ve had to become my own support system, my own backbone, my own voice of reason. And while that’s made me resilient, it’s also made me tired. There’s a kind of loneliness that comes with always being the strong one. You get so used to holding yourself up that you forget what it feels like to be held. You stop asking for help because, deep down, you know no one’s coming. You learn to mask the pain, put on a brave face, and keep going because that’s all you know how to do. And people admire that. They see the strength, not the scars. They don’t see the sleepless nights, the silent cries, or the battles fought behind closed doors. But if I’m honest, strength can feel like a prison. You carry everyone else’s weight because you know what it’s like to be dropped. You keep your pain to yourself because you’ve learned that vulnerability can be a liability. And maybe, just maybe, you start to believe that needing someone makes you weak. But it doesn’t. Being strong doesn’t mean you never break. It just means you’ve learned how to put yourself back together, over and over again. Still, sometimes, I wish I didn’t have to. Sometimes, I wish there was someone to lean on, even just for a moment. Not because I’m giving up. But because even the strongest ones get tired.