You Don’t Have to Be the Strong One Anymore

A woman sitting with her arms crossed, staring ahead of her

In all honesty — being “the strong one” sounds noble until you realize it’s just code for “the one who doesn’t get to fall apart.”

You know exactly who you are. You’re the dependable one. The go-to. The “you got this” friend. The one who holds it all together when everyone else is coming unglued. You pray for people when they’re falling apart — and then go cry in your car afterward because you can’t even remember the last time someone asked you if you were okay.

You’re tired. Not weak. Not faithless. Just tired.

And honestly? You’re a little mad about it.

Mad that people assume you’re fine because you’re functioning. Mad that you can pour out for everyone else, but nobody seems to notice you’re running on fumes. Angry that your strength has become everyone else’s safety net — while you quietly drown in the background.

Yeah... That tired.

The Heavy Side of Strength

Somewhere along the line, strength became your identity. People clap for your resilience but overlook your pain. They call you “so inspiring” — but inspiration doesn’t tuck you in when you’re falling apart at 2 a.m.

Let’s tell the truth: being strong all the time can start to feel like punishment.

You start thinking, If I let go, everything will fall apart. And maybe it will. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

Because what if God never called you to be everyone’s glue? What if He’s been waiting for you to stop trying to hold it all together so He can actually hold you?

Even Jesus — Jesus — had moments of collapse. In the Garden of Gethsemane, He didn’t flex His divinity; He showed His humanity. He wept. He asked His friends to stay awake with Him. He literally said,

“My soul is very sorrowful, even to death.” — Matthew 26:38 (ESV)

If Jesus — the Son of God — could say “I’m not okay,” why do we feel guilty when we admit the same?

When “Strong” Becomes “Stuck”

There’s a point where “being strong” turns into emotional constipation. You’ve held it in for so long that you don’t even know how to release it anymore.

You start saying “I’m fine” out of habit, not honesty. You start helping others so you can avoid sitting still with your own pain. You start numbing instead of nurturing.

And the scary part? It starts to look like faith. You’re quoting Scripture, leading devotionals, posting encouraging words — all while silently falling apart behind your own advice.

That’s not a weakness. That’s emotional exhaustion disguised as holiness.

You can’t minister from empty. You can’t pour peace out of a cup that’s cracked and dry.

And God isn’t impressed by how much pain you can hide. He’s after your heart — the one that keeps trying to hold it all together when it’s begging for rest.

Strong People Break Too

You know what’s wild? The strong ones usually don’t have safe places to fall apart. Because we’ve trained everyone around us to depend on us — but never to check on us.

You’re so good at saving others that they forget you’re human. And if you’re honest, you’ve played a part in that — because it’s easier to help than to be helped. It’s safer to give advice than to ask for it.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: strength isn’t sustainable if it’s never supported.

Even Moses needed Aaron and Hur to hold up his arms when he got tired (Exodus 17:12). And that’s what God is reminding you of right now — your strength was never meant to be solo.

It’s okay to stop pretending. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to cry and let someone else pray for you for a change.

Because real strength isn’t the absence of struggle — it’s the willingness to stay soft while you’re in one.

A Little Humor, Because Whew…

Truth be told, some of us are one “Hey, can you just…” text away from changing our names and moving to a cabin in the woods with no Wi-Fi. (You know it's true... It takes one to know one!)

We don’t need another inspirational quote. We need a nap, a vacation, and a season of nobody needing anything from us.

Sometimes “spiritual warfare” is just you trying to function on four hours of sleep and two cups of coffee, calling it “the Lord’s strength.” 😅

Beloved, rest is not rebellion. Boundaries are not betrayal. Silence is not selfish.

Even Jesus took naps in storms. You can take one on a Sunday.

The Strength That Saves You

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9 (ESV)

God’s not asking you to be strong all the time. He’s asking you to be still long enough to let Him be strong for you.

You don’t have to be everyone’s safe place. You don’t have to be the emotional first responder for every crisis. You don’t have to have it all together.

You just have to let God meet you in the middle of your mess and remind you: Your strength was never the source — it was the symptom of your survival.

Now it’s time to live.

Prayer

Father,

I’m tired. Not ungrateful — just tired. I’ve been strong for so long that I forgot what it feels like to lean on You. Help me lay down the weight I wasn’t built to carry. Remind me that I don’t have to prove my worth through endurance. Teach me that weakness is where Your power shows up best. I’m done performing strength, Lord. I just want peace.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

With His strength and grace,

Adrienne K.