I’ve spent so much of my life being the strong one—the one who keeps it together when everything feels like it’s falling apart, the one who pushes through even when the weight feels unbearable.
I’m so used to wearing that strength like armor that I almost forget what it feels like to be soft, to let my guard down. That’s why being treated with kindness means more than words can express. It’s not about needing someone to save me—I can handle the hard stuff—but feeling safe enough to be vulnerable, even for a moment.
When you’re used to carrying so much, even the smallest acts of gentleness feel like a reminder that I don’t have to be strong all the time, that it’s okay to rest. And sometimes, that’s exactly what I need.
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