but who am I if I’m not their strongest one?
Growing up, I learned how to be strong all by myself.
No one taught me how to be, I just had to become it. I learned to manage my own emotions, to calm myself when things got loud inside my head. I learned to cry quietly, to wipe my own tears, to whisper to myself that things would be okay because no one else did. I never asked for help. I never shared my pain. I never told anyone when I was breaking inside. I kept it all to myself because I thought that’s what strong people do.
And so, maybe that’s why people started to see me as “the strong one.” The one who always seems fine. The one who never complains. The one who listens to others, comforts others, helps others but never needs anything back. They started to believe I could carry everything.
And maybe I started to believe it too.
I became the role they needed me to be. I wore the title like armor. Strong. Brave. Always okay.
But… But who am I if I’m not their strongest one? Would they still look at me the same way? Would they still care about me? Would they still love me?
What if one day I finally say, “I’m tired”? What if one day I cry in front of them? What if I finally admit that I’m not okay? Would they stay? Or would they walk away because I no longer fit the image they made of me?
I don’t know how to stop being strong because I don’t know who I am without that role. I’ve worn it for so long that it feels like my whole identity. It feels like if I let it go, I’ll have nothing left.
I forgot how it feels to fall apart and not apologize for it. I forgot that it’s okay to say, “I can’t do this right now.” I forgot that I’m human too.
Sometimes, I want to stop pretending. I want to stop carrying everything. I want to rest. I want someone to hold me and say, “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”
But then again, the fear comes in. Because if I’m not their strongest one… Then who am I? Am I still someone they need? Am I still someone they value?
I’m scared that without my strength, I’ll become invisible. That without my strength, I’ll be too much—too emotional, too weak, too messy.
But maybe… Maybe being strong doesn’t mean carrying everything in silence.
Maybe being strong means allowing yourself to feel, to break, to ask for help. Maybe it means being honest when life gets heavy. Maybe the real strength is admitting that you’re tired of always being the strong one.
So today, I’m still scared. But I’m learning. Learning that I am more than the role I was forced to play. That I deserve love, even in my weakest moments. That I am still me, even when I fall apart. And maybe that’s enough.
Maybe I am enough. Even when I’m not their strongest one.
