To the Woman Who Always Had to Be the Strong One

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You held it all.
For everyone.
The steady one. The fixer. The glue.
Even when you were falling apart inside.

 

You showed up when no one else did.
You carried burdens in silence.
You stayed calm while everyone else broke down.
And you learned—early—that your pain had to wait.

 

You were praised for being reliable.
Admired for being capable.
But no one asked what it cost you.

 

So here’s what I need you to hear:

 

It’s okay to fall apart.
It’s okay to not be okay.
It’s okay to set it all down and say, “This is too heavy.”

 

You don’t have to earn your rest.
You don’t have to prove your worth.
You don’t have to be strong here.

 

At this retreat, we see the woman behind the armor.
The one who is tired. Tender. Human.
And we welcome her with open arms.

 

You don’t have to carry it all anymore.
You don’t have to carry any of it alone.

 

Come let yourself be held.
Come let yourself be soft.
Come remember that strength isn't silence—
It’s knowing when to finally let go.