When Strength Becomes a Curse
The Invisible Burden
Growing up, many of us were taught to be "strong." Strength was the unspoken anthem of our upbringing. It was in the way we were told to stop crying—"big boys don’t cry" or "good girls don’t make a fuss." It was in the way we were praised for enduring hardship quietly, for carrying more than our fair share without complaint. Strength, we were told, was noble. Strength, we were told, was everything.
But somewhere along the way, strength became a cage.
Here’s the thing no one tells you about being strong: people stop seeing you as human. They see the strength, but they don’t see the weight you’re carrying. You become the go-to person for everything because "you can handle it." The friend who always listens, the sibling who always steps up, the employee who never says no. The person who doesn’t need help—until you do.
Strength, for all its virtues, can also be isolating. It’s why so many of us feel unseen, even when surrounded by people. We’ve been so good at appearing unshakable that no one bothers to ask if we’re okay. And when they do ask, we’ve been conditioned to smile and say, “I’m fine,” because anything else feels like weakness—and weakness, we’ve been told, is unacceptable.
But here’s the truth: no one is strong all the time. And pretending to be is not sustainable. There’s a reason even the strongest structures need maintenance, why bridges need reinforcements, why ships need harbours. Strength isn’t about never bending—it’s about knowing when to lean, when to rest, when to let someone else hold the weight.
So if you’ve been carrying an invisible burden, let this be your permission slip to set it down. Ask for help. Admit when you’re not okay. Cry if you need to. Your humanity is not a weakness; it’s your greatest strength.
And for those of us who’ve benefited from the strength of others, let’s stop taking it for granted. Check on the people who always seem fine. Offer support before it’s asked for. And remember: even the strongest among us deserve to be carried sometimes. Strength is a gift—but it should never come at the cost of your soul.
This is one of the many things I admire about the Man Jesus Christ.
He never hid his feelings. He expressed himself in the clearest way possible.
He cried when he was told the death of Lazarus. He cursed the fig tree when he couldn't find a fruit on it to eat, because of hunger. He prayed to God to take away his death-- if possible-- because he was afraid.
Indeed, "Our humanity is not weakness." The savior taught this better.
I find your writings so inspiring. This is the first time I've commented, but I'm a huge under cover fan 😁😁
Thank you for what you do.