When you’re the one everyone leans on — who holds you?

There’s a kind of exhaustion that doesn’t come from doing too much.

It comes from carrying too much.

From remembering everything.

From noticing everything.

From holding space for everyone else

while quietly setting yourself aside.

Many women were taught that being strong means being available.

Reliable.

Capable.

Unshakeable.

Black women often learn strength through necessity — holding families together, navigating systems that don’t protect you, staying resilient because there’s no other choice.

White women often learn strength through performance — keep it together, keep it pleasant, don’t let things show. The weight of “women emotional labor.”

Different pressures.

Same fatigue.

When strength becomes the only option,

rest starts to feel like failure.

Boundaries feel selfish.

Saying no feels like letting someone down.

So women push through.

Until anxiety becomes normal.

Until resentment whispers quietly.

Until exhaustion feels like a personality trait.

The breaking point is rarely dramatic.

It’s subtle.

You realize you’re managing life,

not living it.

You love people — but you’re disconnected from yourself.

Here’s the truth that doesn’t get said enough:

You can love people deeply

and still need limits.

Boundaries aren’t rejection.

They’re clarity.

They sound like:

“I can’t do that right now.”

“I need time.”

“I’m not available for this.”

If guilt shows up when you change, that doesn’t mean you’re wrong.

It means an old role is losing control.

Strength doesn’t disappear when you rest.

It becomes sustainable.

You are allowed to be supported.

You are allowed to be human.