You’re the one people call at 2am. The friend who always has wise advice, a listening ear, and a shoulder to cry on. You show up for everyone—holding space for their heartbreaks, celebrating their wins, remembering the small details that matter. You’re reliable, capable, strong.
But here’s the question nobody asks: Who holds you?
If you’re the “strong friend,” chances are you’ve spent so much energy caring for others that you’ve forgotten how to receive care yourself. You might even feel uncomfortable when someone asks, “How are you, really?” The question catches you off guard. You’re so used to being the supporter that being supported feels foreign, and uncomfortable – even wrong somehow.
The Invisible Weight
Being the “strong friend” comes with an invisible weight that accumulates over time. It’s not that you don’t want to support your people—you genuinely care. But beneath the surface, something else is happening.
You’re absorbing their pain while suppressing your own. You’re constantly attuned to everyone’s emotional needs while disconnecting from yours. You’ve become so practiced at being the container for others’ feelings that your own have nowhere to go.
This pattern often starts early. Maybe you grew up in a family where someone else’s needs always came first—a struggling parent, a difficult sibling, or simply a household where emotional expression wasn’t safe or welcomed. You learned that your value came from being helpful, from not adding to the burden, from being strong.
And it worked. People loved you for it. They still do. But the cost compounds quietly over the years.
What It Actually Looks Like
The “strong friend” often doesn’t recognize her own depletion until it becomes impossible to ignore. The signs show up in subtle ways:
You feel exhausted after social interactions, even with people you love. You need extensive alone time to recover from simply being around others. You start avoiding calls or making excuses not to meet up, not because you don’t care, but because you have nothing left to give.
You feel resentful, then guilty about the resentment. They need me. What kind of friend would I be if I wasn’t there for them?
You notice yourself getting sick more often—your body forcing you to rest in the only way you’ll allow.
You struggle to identify your own feelings. When someone asks how you are, you genuinely don’t know. You’ve spent so long focused outward that you’ve lost touch with your inner landscape.
You feel lonely even when surrounded by people, because nobody really knows what you’re carrying. The relationships feel one-directional. You know their struggles intimately, but they only know your surface.
The Permission You’ve Been Waiting For
Here’s what the “strong friend” needs to hear: Your needs matter just as much as everyone else’s.
Not more. Not less. Equally.
You don’t have to earn the right to struggle by first proving you’re strong enough. You don’t have to wait until you’re in crisis before reaching out. You don’t have to be everything for everyone.
Needing support doesn’t make you weak, broken, or burdensome. It makes you human.
The belief that you should be able to handle everything alone isn’t strength—it’s a wound masquerading as a virtue.
What Changes Look Like
Shifting out of the “strong friend” role doesn’t mean abandoning the people you love. It means creating relationships with more balance, where you can be both supporter and supported.
It might mean:
Learning to say, “I don’t have the capacity for this right now” without drowning in guilt.
Practicing vulnerability by sharing your actual struggles instead of the scripted, already-resolved versions.
Noticing when you’re performing strength versus actually feeling okay.
Choosing relationships that feel reciprocal over ones where you’re always the giver.
Recognizing that allowing others to support you is a gift—it lets them feel needed, capable, and connected to you in return.
Getting professional support and counseling from someone whose actual job is to hold space for you, so you’re not carrying everything alone.
The Radical Act of Receiving
For “the strong friend,” receiving care is often harder than giving it. It requires letting your guard down, admitting you don’t have it all together, and trusting that people will still love you when you’re not performing strength.
This vulnerability feels terrifying because somewhere along the way, you learned that your worth was conditional—that you were lovable because you were strong, helpful, low-maintenance, and never rocked the boat. The fear whispers: If I’m not strong, will anyone want me?
But real intimacy—the kind that actually nourishes you—requires being known in your wholeness, which includes your struggles, fears, and needs.
The people who truly love you don’t want a friendship with just your “strong” parts. They want all of you. And if they don’t? That tells you something important about the relationship.
You Deserve More
If you’re reading this and recognizing yourself, please know: you deserve friendships and relationships where you don’t have to be “on” all the time. You deserve space to fall apart. You deserve support that isn’t contingent on you having helped everyone else first.
You deserve to be cared for with the same tenderness you extend to others.
Being “the strong friend” isn’t sustainable, and it’s not actually serving you or your relationships. Real strength isn’t the absence of struggle—it’s the courage to be honest about your humanity.
You’ve spent so long holding everyone else. Maybe it’s time to let yourself be held.
If you’re ready to explore what it would feel like to receive support instead of only giving it, practices like Discover Peace Within in Denver offer therapy specifically designed for women navigating these patterns. Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is admit you need help—and actually accept it.
