The Hidden Cost of Holding Everything Together

By Brea Segger

A little while ago, someone said something to me that I've heard in many different ways over the years.

"I'm tired of being the strong one."

She didn't say it dramatically. In many ways, her life was going well. She had built a successful business, raised a family, and become someone the people around her naturally relied upon. When she said those words, it almost sounded as though she was hearing them herself for the first time.

I've heard versions of that sentence from founders, parents, physicians, business owners and people whose lives look remarkably steady from the outside. The details are always different, but there comes a point where carrying everything begins to sound less like capability and more like exhaustion.

No one seems to wake up one morning and decide they'll become the person who holds everything together.

It usually begins with being capable.

When something needs doing, they do it. If someone else is overwhelmed, they step in. If a difficult decision has to be made, they're willing to make it. Over time, people begin to rely on them because they've shown they can be relied upon.

After a while, no one really thinks to ask whether they're still able to carry it.

The stronger someone becomes, the fewer people think to ask how they're doing.

Strength has a way of reassuring the people around us. When someone appears capable, it's easy to assume they're coping. Over time, people stop checking in quite as often. They stop offering to carry things because it looks as though everything is already being carried.

None of this happens overnight. A little more responsibility here. Another person depending on you there. One more thing you know you can handle. Each step feels small enough on its own that it hardly seems worth noticing.

Then one day, it no longer feels like something you do.

At some point, carrying becomes so normal that you stop recognising it as a choice.

I've lost count of the number of times someone has told me they're exhausted, only to spend the next few minutes convincing me why everyone else needed them more than they needed themselves.

They'll tell me how grateful they are for their family, their work and their health. They'll explain why they have no reason to feel this way.

I'm not asking whether they're grateful. I'm asking what they need.

When I ask that question, the conversation often becomes very quiet. For many people, it's a question they haven't been asked in years.

I've met very few people who wanted to carry everything.

I've met many who quietly stopped believing they could put it down.