#being strong

You listen, you support, you show up, even when you are running low yourself. People see you as dependable, so they assume you are always okay. But being strong doesn’t mean you don’t need care too.

You deserve someone who asks how you are.

You deserve a moment to rest, to be soft, to not have everything figured out.

It’s okay if you can’t carry everything today. Strength isn’t just about holding it all together, it’s also about knowing when you need support.

“The One They Call When Everything Breaks”

I am so tired.

Not the kind of tired

sleep can touch.

Not the kind a weekend

or a day off

or a long hot shower

can wash from my skin.

No—

I am the kind of tired

that lives in the marrow.

The kind that settles

behind the ribs

and makes a home there,

heavy as grief,

quiet as surrender.

I am tired

of being the hands

everyone reaches for

when their world starts caving in.

Tired of being

the emergency contact,

the late-night answer,

the voice of reason,

the ride home,

the clean-up crew

for messes I never made.

Tired of being

the person people trust

to hold their disasters

while mine

bleed through my sleeves.

They call me strong

because I don’t collapse

where they can see it.

They call me dependable

because I drag myself

to every fire

with smoke already in my lungs.

They call me a blessing

because I know how to smile

while drowning.

And maybe that’s the cruelest joke of all—

that I have become so good

at surviving publicly

that no one notices

I am dying in private.

I am tired

of patching holes

in everyone else’s boats

while mine sinks

one quiet inch at a time.

Tired of being asked

for one more favor,

one more rescue,

one more miracle

from hands

that are already shaking.

Tired of hearing,

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,”

when what I want to say is—

Have you ever wondered

what I’m doing

with no one?

Because when the storms come for me,

I do what I have always done:

I shut up.

I swallow it.

I carry it.

I become the wall

even while the foundation cracks.

I am tired

of being the “strong one.”

Do you know what that really means?

It means people stop asking

if you’re okay.

It means your pain

becomes background noise.

It means everyone assumes

you can take one more hit,

one more burden,

one more heartbreak,

because you always have before.

It means they hand you

their sharpest pieces

and trust

you won’t bleed on them.

I am tired

of being needed

more than I am known.

Tired of being useful

instead of held.

Tired of being praised

for endurance

when what I really need

is permission

to fall apart

without becoming

someone else’s inconvenience.

I am tired

of crying in bathrooms

so I can come back out smiling.

Tired of making jokes

with a chest full of rubble.

Tired of saying

“I’m fine”

because it is easier

than explaining

how close to empty

I really am.

I am tired

of saving people

who would be shocked

to learn

I needed saving too.

Tired of being

the bridge everyone crosses

while the river

eats away at the supports.

Tired of carrying

everyone’s secrets,

everyone’s grief,

everyone’s chaos,

like my back

was built for ruin.

It wasn’t.

I was not born

to be a shelter

for every storm

while my own house burns.

I was not made

to be endlessly giving,

endlessly patient,

endlessly unbreakable.

I break.

I break in silence.

In swallowed tears.

In unfinished meals.

In unread messages.

In the ache behind my eyes

when my phone lights up

and I already know

someone needs something again.

I break

every time I say yes

when my whole soul

is begging me

to say no.

And still—

I answer.

Still—

I show up.

Still—

I fix.

Still—

I carry.

Because if I stop,

everything might fall apart.

And what a terrible thing

to realize:

That everyone has built

their safety

on the bones

of your exhaustion.

So if I seem distant,

if I go quiet,

if I stop reaching,

if my light dims

and my laughter sounds rehearsed—

understand this:

I am not cruel.

I am not selfish.

I am not failing.

I am simply a person

who has been strong

for too long.

A person

with arms full of everyone else

and no room left

to hold myself.

A person

who learned how to survive

by becoming necessary

and is now learning

how much that costs.

I am so tired.

And for once,

I do not want to be

the one who saves the day.

I want to be found.

I want to be chosen

without asking.

I want someone

to look at the wreckage in me

and say,

Put it down.