The Hidden Cost of Being ‘The Strong One’ - And What Real Strength Actually Looks Like.

The Myth of Strength

Being “the strong one” can feel like a badge of honour - on the surface.

You’re the one people rely on.

The one who doesn’t complain.

The one who keeps things together when everything feels like it’s falling apart.

But for many of us, that strength isn’t a conscious choice. It starts much earlier, often shaped by subtle experiences and dynamics that go unnoticed.

For me, it meant suppressing my own needs, feelings, and desires so I wouldn’t “negatively contribute” to the atmosphere around me. I became the people pleaser, the problem solver, the mediator. Even when my anxiety and OCD felt overwhelming, I stayed quiet. I couldn’t always trust my own mind - and yet I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone else.

Underneath the surface was self-doubt, a deep fear of judgment, and a constant, self-created pressure to hold it all together.
Not just for me - but for everyone else, too. Or at least that was how I interpreted it at the time.

In my work with clients [and whilst for different reasons] I see similar patterns play out over and over again, regardless of gender. The expression might vary slightly, but the core belief is often the same:

“I should be able to do this on my own.”

It’s a subtle but dangerous mindset. One that comes from:

• A fear of more judgment

• A fear of being rejected or abandoned [again].

• A fear of failure, of letting themselves or others down [shame / not feeling or being enough]

• Struggles with trusting others

• Early positive reinforcement for being stoic, capable, and self-reliant

And while those traits are often praised - “You’re so strong,” “I don’t know how you do it all”—what people don’t see, is the cost.

Sometimes that celebration reinforces the behaviour. It keeps the mask in place.

And behind the mask?

A person who may be crumbling under the pressure… And at some point, the weight becomes too much.

What It’s Really Costing You

The cost of always being “the strong one” isn’t always immediate.

In fact, it often creeps in quietly. It looks like overthinking, exhaustion, emotional detachment. It looks like tension in your chest that you’ve learned to ignore. Like saying “I’m fine” when you’re anything but.

For me, the toll built over time.

It started subtly…fatigue that didn’t match the demands of my life, withdrawing more than usual, losing the desire to engage with the world around me. As it compounded, it eventually surfaced as panic attacks, OCD fixations, and an unhealthy need for control. Even small tasks made me feel anxious. I didn’t want to engage in life at all.

There wasn’t one dramatic breakdown moment, but rather a slow erosion.

Eventually, the pressure became too much, and that’s when the interventions started.

My mum introduced me to yoga and meditation. I remember her handing me The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. My parents also booked me in to see a counsellor. These small shifts marked the beginning of a much bigger turning point - one where I could start reconnecting with myself again.

I see this story unfold with clients, too.

One woman came to me feeling like she no longer loved her business and wanted to quit. On the outside, she’d built what should’ve been the dream job. But inside, she was disconnected and depleted. She’d been trudging along in silence for years - afraid to seem ungrateful, hesitant to show any vulnerability as a solo entrepreneur.

In trying to maintain the illusion of strength, she’d unintentionally neglected every other aspect of her life. Her work and online presence came first- her health, her relationships, her joy were always last. Over time, the disconnection deepened. Early burnout signs were creeping in. So was depression.

Once she saw this clearly, everything changed. She chose to rebalance. She made time for herself - for rest, for her body, for adventure, for her family and friends. That same year, she met her now long-term partner. She didn’t quit her business—she fell in love with it again. Because she reconnected with herself first.

This is what we don’t see when we praise people for their strength.

We don’t see the emotional backlog - the unspoken weight they carry alone.

The burnout that brews beneath the surface.

The disconnection from self that slowly spills into everything else.

Eventually, the body and mind intervene…and by then, the cost is far greater than it ever needed to be.

Why We Cling to It

By the time someone realises the toll of always being “the strong one,” they’ve often worn the role for so long it feels like a second skin.

Letting it go doesn’t feel freeing—it feels terrifying! Because even though it’s heavy, it’s also familiar.

And [this part is important] - it once worked.

It served a purpose.

For many, being the strong one was the strategy that helped them stay safe, stay liked, stay needed. It helped them navigate unpredictability, meet expectations, avoid rejection.

It gave them a sense of control in a world that sometimes felt anything but.

In that context, strength wasn’t a choice - it was a survival tactic.

Over time, this pattern gets reinforced. Being the calm one, the reliable one, the one who doesn’t fall apart - that gets noticed. Praised. Rewarded. And slowly, strength stops being something you have, and becomes something you are.

The problem is, praise becomes pressure. And pressure then turns into identity.

When I work with clients, I often hear versions of the same unspoken belief:

• “If I stop being the strong one, everything might fall apart.”

• “If I ask for help, I’ll be disappointed—or worse, seen as weak.”

• “If I stop holding it together, maybe no one else will.”

It’s rarely about ego. It’s about fear.

A fear of judgment. A fear of being rejected or abandoned [again]. A fear of failure. A fear of losing control. A fear of what might surface if they actually stopped and let themselves feel what’s been buried.

And on some level, it makes sense.

If you’ve been hurt before, let down, or made to believe that your needs were too much, you’ll naturally learn to meet your own needs first - quietly, and alone. You might even come to believe that independence is the only way to stay safe.

But the truth is, even if it once protected you, that strategy has a shelf life.

Because strength isn’t about carrying it all, all the time. And it’s not about never needing help. It’s about knowing when to hold—and when to let go.

The longer we cling to the illusion of control, the more we lose sight of what we actually want: deeper connection, real support, and a life that doesn’t just look strong - but feels good to live in.

The Reframe: What True Strength Really Looks Like

Letting go of the “strong one” identity doesn’t mean becoming fragile.

It doesn’t mean losing your edge, lowering your standards, or giving up on ambition.

In fact, it takes far more strength to be honest with yourself than it does to keep pretending you’re fine.

To me, true strength is ownership.

It’s having the courage to look at yourself clearly - without distortion or disguise. To name your needs. To ask for help. To express your feelings without shame.

It’s knowing when you have the resilience and tenacity to move forward - and when it’s time to pause, soften, delegate, or lean on others.

It’s the paradox of grit and grace.

A knife-edge walk between responsibility and vulnerability.

Between striving forward and knowing when to sit still.

Between pushing through and consciously choosing to rest.

This kind of strength isn’t performative. It’s not about appearances. It’s quiet, steady, and deeply self-respecting.

When I finally opened up to my family and trusted friends, it didn’t solve everything - but it shifted something. That small act of honesty started to relieve the internal pressure. I stopped holding it all in. I began to unravel. And in that unraveling, I started to heal.

Yoga and meditation became practices of reconnection - not just with my body, but with the parts of myself I had long silenced. Working with a counsellor, and later a coach, gave me language and perspective I didn’t know I needed.

I see this in my clients, too.

Once they begin to let go of the image - of being perfect, in control, unshakably strong, something else opens up.

Often for the first time in years, they feel a sense of relief. Like they’ve finally stopped pretending. Like they can finally breathe.

And from that place, everything changes.

They make decisions more aligned with who they truly are.

They communicate more honestly.

They let others show up for them.

And ironically, they become even stronger - but this time, from a place that’s real, rooted, and supported.

Strength isn’t found in staying neat and polished - it’s found in the courage to get messy.

To drop the mask.

To admit, “I don’t have it all together, and that’s okay.”

True strength isn’t about staying composed - it’s about creating spaces where you don’t have to pretend, where the mess is welcome, and growth can actually happen.

Those are the spaces where we begin to come back to ourselves.

That’s what true strength allows for.

Not perfection. But presence—even in the mess.

An Invitation to Soften

If you’ve been carrying it all for a long time, I get it.

You’ve probably mastered the art of appearing composed - no matter what’s happening internally. You’ve likely learned to keep it all running, all held together, even when something inside you is quietly fraying.

But here’s what I want you to know:

Eventually, the weight becomes too much.
And when it does, it rarely collapses gently.

That’s the hidden cost of never softening, of never letting yourself be seen or supported. The longer you hold it all in, the more damage it can quietly do - physically, emotionally, relationally.

When we wait until breaking point, the collateral is far greater - personally and professionally. But when we reach out sooner, when we choose to be honest before everything starts to fall apart, we give ourselves the chance to not just survive - but to actually feel better.

So here’s your invitation:

Take a moment.
Check in.

• Where are you still holding it all together?

• Where in your life do you still believe you have to be the strong one?

• What would it feel like to put even a fraction of that weight down?

Softening doesn’t make you weak.
It makes you available - to yourself, to others, to something new.

You don’t have to carry it all alone.

with love,

DMC