SERIES 4: ALWAYS THE STRONG ONE
They call me strong.
And I smile.
But they don’t see the shaking hands behind that smile.
They don’t see the nights I pray for strength
because even I, don't know how I’m still standing.
They say, “i am the strong one,
i’ll be fine.”
But what if I’m not fine?
What if I’m tired of being the one who never crumbles?
What if strength has become a silent sentence
to hold it all together while falling apart inside?
I hold space for others,
check in on everyone,
show up, speak peace, fix things.
And when I break?
Silence.
Because no one expects the strong one to bleed.
No one checks the foundation until it cracks.
I am the one they call first
The one who listens, fixes, prays, gives.
The one who can’t afford to crash
because if i fall,
everything else might fall with me.
So i keep going.
Wiping tears while helping others dry theirs.
Smiling through storms.
Showing up even when you feel invisible.
But inside, I’m exhausted.
I’m screaming in places where my voice has no echo.
I want to rest but I don’t know how to stop.
Even strong daughters bleed silently
Even strong daughters break privately
Even strong daughters want to be seen
They don't see the nights I whisper,
“God, I can’t do this anymore.”
They don’t see how I sit in the bathroom,
Just to have a moment to breathe.
Being strong is heavy.
Being strong is lonely.
Being strong is exhausting.
Being strong became my identity but not my healing.
And now I’m learning that strength is also saying:
“I’m not okay.”
“I need help.”
“I can’t do it all.”
“Check on me, too.”
From ADA (The First Daughter)
#AnticipateADAbook
#ADAstrugglesSeries
#TheUnseenStruggles
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