Strength Is Not in Pretending to Be Okay.

 

They told me to be strong.

To smile when it hurts.

To keep going when I could barely breathe.

To hold it all in like silence could protect me from shattering.

And so I did.

I performed strength like a perfectly rehearsed monologue.

I wore it like a mask, beautiful, polished, convincing.

But behind the performance… I was crumbling.

No one talks about how heavy it is to carry the weight of pretending.

No one warns you that “I’m fine” can become a prison, and that silence, when left unchecked, starts to echo louder than screams.

I thought strength was about being unaffected.

I thought it meant keeping the tears hidden,

Smiling through the pain,

Never letting them see the softness in me,

The ache in my bones,

The breaking in my spirit.

But I’ve learned, painfully, slowly, that real strength is not found in the denial of struggle.

It lives in the confession of it.

It grows in the raw places where we dare to say,

“I’m not okay, but I’m still choosing to stay.”

Strength is the girl who wakes up after crying herself to sleep, and still shows up for life.

It’s the boy who finally tells someone, “I need help.”

It’s the mother who holds her child while her own heart is breaking.

It’s the student who keeps showing up, even when their mind is tired.

It’s you, who keeps reading this,

Because somewhere inside you,

There’s still a flicker of hope you haven’t let go of.

Strength is not the absence of pain.

It’s the presence of perseverance in the middle of it.

It’s falling apart, and still choosing to build something beautiful from the ruins.

It’s crying, and still rising.

It’s saying, “Today I feel empty,”

But still believing you’re worth the fight.

So no, you don’t have to pretend.

You don’t have to be polished or perfect.

Let your tears be part of your testimony.

Let your weakness be proof that you’re still here, still human, still holding on.

You are not weak for feeling broken.

You are powerful because you keep choosing to heal.

Food for the Soul:

The next time someone asks how you’re doing, give yourself permission to tell the truth. Not the rehearsed one. The real one. Healing begins in honesty. And strength? It’s not in the pretending. It’s in the showing up, even when you’re still bleeding inside.