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“Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is ask for help.” ~Unknown
We live in a world that celebrates strength, especially quiet strength. I’m the type of person who shows up and gets things done and rarely complains. They are resilient, reliable, and productive. But what happens when the strong quietly sneak inside?
“You’re Superwoman!”
“It’s very reliable!”
“You are the glue that holds everyone together.”
I wore that compliment like a badge of honor. For years I believed them. Not only did I believe in them, I built my identity around them.
I’ve always been a multitasker. Jack of all trades. I managed work, home, relationships, and 100 moving parts in between. I cooked elaborate meals, remembered birthdays, bought thoughtful gifts, checked in on friends regularly, showed up for strangers when needed, pursued hobbies, supported the dreams of others, and endured physical pain and mental exhaustion without complaint.
I was the one people relied on. And even if they didn’t turn to me, I turned to them. If someone was having a hard time, I would show up with soup or a handwritten card or spend hours on the phone. I intuited the need before it was said.
And when people said things like, “Wow! How do you manage all this?” and “You’re amazing,” my heart swelled with pride. It felt good to see you. I felt powerful that I was needed.
But over time, I began to notice something quietly tragic.
Someone was tired under that strength. It’s not the kind of fatigue that can be cured by sleep, but the kind that comes from years of neglecting your own needs for the sake of others. The kind that comes from confusing love with excessive giving. It’s the type of thing that creeps up on you if you wear a Strong One mask for too long, and you don’t know who you are without it.
At the time, I didn’t think it would please people. I really loved being helpful. I believed that if I could ease the burden on someone else, I shouldn’t do it. Isn’t that what love looks like? Isn’t that what kindness is?
But slowly, silently, invisibly, it was taking its toll on me. My skin has dried up, my hair has thinned, and I have gained weight around my waist.
As I got older, I started to notice changes. The frenzy that once lasted until midnight now fades away at sunset. The fatigue wasn’t just physical, it was emotional and mental. My body wasn’t broken, but my soul was whispering, “I can’t keep carrying it all.”
And in the end, I listened.
Because something beautiful and painful struck me at the same time.
Strength is not about having everything together. Sometimes true strength lies in knowing when to let go.
It means, “I don’t want to be strong today.”
It consists in resting, not in earning.
It’s about telling the truth when someone asks, “How are you doing?” “Actually, I’m not okay,” I replied.
It’s about giving yourself permission to be fully, messed up, and unapologetically human.
The world doesn’t tell us that. It tells us to persevere. To push. To continue. That rest is a reward, not a right. Its slow speed is its weakness. That softness is fragility.
But now I understand that softness is also a kind of strength. The brave type. It’s just the type of thing that doesn’t scream or perform.
So how do we let go of the “strong person” role?
Letting go doesn’t mean giving up your values. It means loosening the grip on the pressure of having to be everything to everyone. It means rewriting what strength means to you. Here’s how I started it:
1. Check yourself daily.
Ask: What do I need today?
Rather than what’s on my to-do list or who needs me, what keeps me centered right now?
Sometimes the answer is water. Sometimes it’s silence. Sometimes it’s movement, sometimes it’s tears, sometimes it’s music. You won’t know unless you stop and listen. Even just five minutes of silence before bed, in the shower, or while drinking a cup of tea can help you reconnect with yourself.
2. Learn to receive help.
You don’t have to shoulder everything alone. Have someone else cook your meal. Let others take the lead. If someone offers support, don’t just reflexively say “It’s okay” or “I understand.” Say thank you. Let them show up for you.
I remember telling a friend one day that I was tired and didn’t feel like cooking. She offered to send me food, which I accepted with gratitude and relief.
Having someone care about you like that doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. Accepting help creates a connection, allows others to show love, and often brings a quiet joy that is as nourishing as the help itself.
3. Stop clapping.
There is a hard truth here. Validation feels great, but it can also be a trap. Start doing things not because you want to do them, but because others expect you to do them. This cycle is addictive.
Ask yourself. Would I still do this if no one noticed or applauded?
If the answer is no, give yourself permission to back off. Choose joy over performance. Choose peace over praise.
4. Set soft boundaries.
You don’t have to explain or justify your “no”.
For years, I felt the need to justify, explain, or defend my claims. Slowly, I began to change the narrative. Now I say it kindly and unapologetically: “I would love to help, but I don’t have the ability right now.” “Can I respond to this?” “I need some time to myself this weekend.”
Boundaries don’t keep people away, they protect your inner landscape. The more you respect them, the broader, calmer and kinder your life will become.
5. Redefine what it means to be strong.
We have been taught that strength is perseverance, resilience, and never showing weakness. But true strength is also quiet, gentle, and human.
I remember one day a close friend came to check on me and was completely devastated. When she asked me how I was, I couldn’t help myself and just burst into tears. She didn’t try to fix anything. She just held me and let me let out everything I was holding on to. And in that moment, I felt lighter than I had in months.
Strength is not about always doing more. Sometimes it’s about being fully present with yourself, being soft, pausing, and without guilt saying, “Not today.”
6. Prioritize rest as much as deadlines.
Rest is not laziness. It’s fuel. It is sacred.
You don’t have to wait until burnout takes a break. You don’t have to complete everything on your list to find serenity. Please make a schedule. Please protect it. Show your respect.
Make rest a daily ritual, not a rare luxury. Your body, mind and soul will thank you.
Since I started prioritizing rest, I’ve noticed changes not just in my energy, but in my clarity, mood, and ability to truly show up for myself and others. Life feels lighter and I finally understand that respecting my body is not selfish, but necessary.
To those who have always been strong
If you’ve always been the caregiver, the doer, the confidant…I get it. I respect you.
But I want to remind you of something you may have forgotten.
You don’t have to prove your worth by overfunctioning. You don’t have to sacrifice your happiness to be loved. You don’t have to keep showing up as the “strong one” when your mind is asking for a quiet break.
You weren’t meant to carry all that on your back.
Now you can take off the cape. You can exhale. It’s okay to cry. You can become softer. You can ask for help. You can choose to take a break. You can ask someone to hold your space for you.
Because I’ve done enough. Because you are enough. And because strength isn’t about how much you hold on to, it’s about knowing when to let go.
Root your new strength in kindness. Let your softness lead the way. Let’s pour out our hearts.
About Aruna Girls
Aruna Joshi is the author of four books, a mental health advocate, and the voice behind Zen Whispers, a blog for deeply feeling souls seeking kindness, truth, and clarity. Through personal stories and gentle reflections, she helps readers feel less alone in their inner struggles. You can find her at thezenwhispers.substack.com.
