The Broken Porch

I've been the strong one for as long as I can remember.  The one who figures it out.  The one who doesn't panic. (Much.) The one who absorbs the hit and keeps moving.  It sounds admirable when you say it like that.  But strength, when it becomes your identity, can start to feel like a cage.  Because once people decide you're strong, they stop checking if you're ok.  They assume you'll manage.  They assume you don't need help. They assume you can carry it.  And you can. That's the problem. You can carry a lot. You can carry the emotional weight. You can carry the responsibility. You can carry the silence. You can carry the disappointment.  You can carry it so well that no one realizes how heavy it's getting. There's a particular kind of loneliness that comes with being the strong one.  It's the loneliness of being relied on... but rarely relieved. Of being leaned on... but rarely leaned into.  Of being needed... but not always nurtur...

It's been a while since I've written here.  Not because I didn't have anything to say... but because life has been heavy in a way that doesn't leave much room for words.  The kind of heavy that comes from holding too much,  Lately, I've felt stretched thin. Trying to take care of everything...  the house, the responsibilities, the emotions, the details no one else seems to notice.  Taking care of my child when he's sick.  Trying to keep life moving forward. Trying to stay steady. And somewhere in all of that, I've realized something hard: You can be surrounded...  and still feel completely unseen. Sometimes it feels like you're only noticed when something is needed.  Like your presence is expected, your effort is assumed,  your strength is taken for granted.  And that's a lonely kind of tired.  Not just physical exhaustion... But emotional exhaustion.  The kind that comes from always being the one who shows up,  the one wh...