It’s not just exhausting, it’s lonely.

People see your strength and assume you’re always okay. They admire how composed, how capable, how grounded you are. They come to you with their stories, their chaos, their unmet needs. And because you are the strong one, the one who knows, who understands, who listens, you give. You hold. You carry.

But what they don’t always see is what that strength is made of.

Sometimes strength is born from a wound. 

A wound so deep it forced you to grow up fast, to hold yourself when no one else could, to become your own anchor in a world that felt too unstable. 

And sometimes, strength is the gift of healing, a quiet resilience earned through years of turning toward your pain instead of running from it.

Either way, it costs something.

And no matter how balanced, wise, or grounded you may seem… you’re human. You get tired. You have soft spots. You still long for a space to fall apart without being expected to pull yourself back together for everyone else.

Because even strong people need holding.

You deserve a safe place too. A presence that doesn’t just lean on you, but leans with you. Someone who sees behind the calm, who doesn’t just admire your strength but honors your tenderness. Someone who can carry you for a change, not because you’re weak, but because you’re worthy of rest, too.

To the strong ones: you are not meant to do it all alone.

Let this be your reminder that your vulnerability is not a flaw. It’s a doorway to intimacy, to real connection, to being met in the fullness of who you are, not just as the healer, the guide, the mother, the friend, the grounded one, but as the human who deserves softness, support, and sacred care.

For all the strong ones, I see you! You deserve a safe space to rest!

With care and respect,🤍

Aniela 

photo: Pinterest