A Softer Kind of Strong

On letting yourself feel, rest, and be human

Growing up, I was taught to believe that strength meant holding it all in.

Strength meant staying quiet.
Strength meant keeping your head up, even when your heart was heavy.
Strength meant running away from what hurt,
ignoring your grief, pretending nothing was wrong.

And for a long time, I lived like that.

I thought strength was survival, pushing through, staying busy, numbing the ache, performing okay-ness because there was always something that needed to get done.

These days, I’m learning that real strength looks different.
These days, I’m actually facing my emotions.
I’ve chosen the path without pain relief.

I’m not running, not replacing, not distracting myself.
I’m just… feeling it, and it hurts.

I’m crying in the car on the way home from work.
I’m soaking up the quiet when it’s just me in the house, letting the silence hold me.
(Despite how uncomfortable that is)

I’m folding into the emotions, squeezing them out like you do with a drenched shirt, letting the heaviness drip out until there’s room to breathe again.

I’m finding strength in breaking apart, in breaking open.
I’m finding strength in letting the feelings come, letting them move through me,
and letting them go.

soft heart and strong boundaries 2025

And I’m starting to see the beauty in it.

I see it in the way my children find comfort in me, how they can name their feelings and know it’s safe to feel them. I see it in the emotional intelligence they’re growing, reminding me that this softness is a gift I’m passing on.

I see it when I reach for my tools, breath, journaling, prayer, movement,
finding moments of joy even on days I don’t feel strong.

I’m finding courage to honor my boundaries, to not excuse terrible behavior,
to protect the peace I’ve fought so hard to create.

Because strength isn’t about pretending you’re not hurting.
It’s not about staying silent or pushing everything down to keep going.
It’s not about numbing or running away from the pain.

Strength can be sitting in the discomfort.
Strength can be letting your heart break and trusting that it will heal.
Strength can be letting yourself be fully alive, fully feeling, fully human.

I don’t want to be strong in the way I used to be. I don’t want to be strong if it means abandoning myself to keep the peace or proving I can carry it all alone.

These days, I’m learning a softer kind of strong. One that lets me rest. One that lets me cry. One that lets me be held, even as I hold others. One that honors the fullness of who I am, not just the parts that look like strength on the outside.

And maybe, that’s enough.

---

Thank you for reading Cuídate.
My sacred online space where I share writings filled with hope, truth, and healing.

I’m grateful you’re here, reflecting and growing alongside me as we learn what it means to embrace a softer kind of strong.

To support you in deepening these reflections, I’m beginning a new feature for our paid Cuídate community: Sacred Pause.

Each Wednesday, paid subscribers will receive a gentle, intentional prompt to help you slow down midweek, reflect with tenderness, and continue the work of coming home to yourself.

Your first Sacred Pause will arrive this Wednesday, guiding you to explore what a softer kind of strong might look like in your life right now.

If you’ve been considering joining Cuídate as a paid subscriber, this is a beautiful moment to step in. Your support helps me continue creating and sharing these offerings with you.

Cuídate

---