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The Strong One

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 nurtured. 


You become the steady place everyone else lands.


But where do you land?

Who steadies you?


Sometimes I wonder if I've been strong for so long that I forgot what it feels like to be held. 


Not physically.


Emotionally.


To not be the one with the answers.

To not be the one fixing it. 

To not be the one calming everyone down.


Just... to be human.


To be tired without explaining why.

To be overwhelmed without justifying it. 

To say "I can't" without feeling guilty. 


Strength has kept me upright. 

But it has also kept me silent. 


It has taught me how to survive quietly.


How to swallow hurt and keep functioning.

How to cry in private and show up composed. 

How to feel unseen and still perform as dependable. 


And lately, I've been asking myself something that feels almost foreign:

What if I don't want to be the strong one all the time?


Not because I'm weak.

But because I'm weary. 

There's a difference.

 

It shouldn't mean being the emotional anchor for everyone else while your own heart drifts.

It shouldn't mean that your needs are always the last ones addressed.


I don't want to harden.

I don't want to stop being capable.


If you've been the strong one too...


The dependable one.

The "she'll be fine" one. 


I hope you know this:

You are allowed to be supported.

You are allowed to be poured into. 

You are allowed to say "I'm tired of carrying it all."


Strength is beautiful.

But so is softness.


And maybe the bravest thing we can do...

is admit we need both.


-Brandi 

Writing from the broken porch

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