The Loneliness of Being The Strong One | Part 3

There are people everyone turns to. They are the ones who remember the birthdays, organise the plans, sort out the practical things and make the difficult phone calls. When something goes wrong, they are usually the person others call. They listen, they help, they stay calm and even when they have plenty going on themselves, they somehow find a way to keep things moving.

We tend to call these people strong, and usually we mean it kindly. We tell them, “You're amazing,” “I don't know how you do it,” “You always cope,” or “I can always count on you.” There is nothing wrong with being capable or dependable. These are good qualities to have. But there can be a downside to becoming the person everyone knows as the one who copes.

People get used to your strength. After a while, they may stop checking whether you need anything because you've given them very little reason to think that you do. If you are always the one saying, “I'm fine,” people eventually believe you. If you regularly say, “I've got this,” they stop wondering whether you really have and if you're constantly checking in on everyone else, people may not realise that there are times when you'd quite like someone to check in on you.

That can leave you feeling surprisingly alone, even when there are plenty of people around you. From the outside, your life may look perfectly fine. You have friends, family, work and responsibilities. People rely on you, and you may even be the person others admire for keeping everything together. But being needed isn't the same as being supported. You can be deeply loved and still feel that nobody really notices when you're struggling.

Part of the problem is that being strong can become part of who we think we are. We get used to being the person who sorts things out and become comfortable being useful. We know what to do when someone else is upset, but feel much less comfortable when we are the one who needs something. Asking for help can feel strangely exposing.

You might tell yourself that other people have enough going on. You might think your problems aren't serious enough to bother anyone with. You might worry that people will see you differently if you admit you’re struggling. It’s something that shows up in my therapy room daily: “I don't want to burden anyone else.” So what do we do, we keep things to ourselves and we carry it alone. We tell ourselves we will deal with it, and often we do, until carrying everything on our own starts to take its toll.

For some people, being capable has also been a way of feeling safe. Being organised, reliable and self-sufficient may have helped them get through difficult periods in their lives. When you've learned that you can depend on yourself, depending on somebody else can feel uncomfortable, even when that person is trustworthy. You may know, logically, that you are safe with them, while still finding it difficult to let your guard down.

There can also be a fear underneath all of this: if I stop holding everything together, what happens? For someone who has spent years being the dependable one, that can be a difficult and scary question to sit with. If everyone is used to you managing, asking for help can feel as though you are changing the rules of the relationship.  It means allowing someone to see that you don’t have everything under control and that can leave you feeling vulnerable and when you are used to being the strong one, vulnerability can feel overwhelming.

We also tend to misunderstand what vulnerability looks like. It doesn't mean telling everyone everything or suddenly becoming completely open about your private life. It can be much smaller than that. It might mean telling one person, “I'm actually having a hard time at the moment,” or admitting, “I don't know what to do.” It could be as simple as saying you've had a difficult week instead of automatically saying you're fine, or allowing someone to sit with you without expecting them to make the problem disappear.

That last part can be particularly difficult. Most of us are much more comfortable with practical help. If there is a problem, we want to solve it. If someone is upset, we look for something we can do. We offer advice, make a plan or try to find a solution. But some things can't be fixed, and sometimes what a person needs most is simply for someone to stay with them while they are having a difficult time. Being able to say, “This is hard,” without someone immediately trying to make it better can be a very different kind of support.

The person who has spent years helping everyone else can find this especially difficult. When you are useful, you know where you stand. You know what your role is and what is expected of you. When you are the one who needs care, you have to let someone else step into that role and that can feel uncomfortable if you are not used to it. It can also be an important part of feeling genuinely close to someone.

Relationships need room for both people to give and receive. If one person is always the helper and the other is always being helped, something is missing. Real closeness requires us to let people see more than the capable version of us. The strongest relationships are often the ones where you can say, “I'm not okay,” without feeling that you have to explain yourself or apologise for needing someone.

The good news is, you don't have to wait until you're falling apart before you tell someone you're struggling. You don't need a dramatic reason or a crisis to justify asking for support. You can say that you've been feeling overwhelmed, that something has been on your mind, that you've had a difficult week or that you'd like some company. Those small moments of honesty can create a different kind of relationship because they give the other person a chance to know what is actually going on.

If you're reading this and recognising yourself in it, you may have become so good at looking okay that people don't realise how much effort it takes. You may be the person everyone calls, the person who remembers everything and the person who gets things done. People may assume you're fine because, for years, you've shown them that you can manage.

It may be worth thinking about whether you've made it difficult for people to know when you need them. Not because you've done anything wrong. People usually respond to what we show them. If we've spent years saying “I'm fine” and insisting we can manage, it isn't surprising that people believe us. Sometimes we have to give the people who care about us a different opportunity. We have to let them see that we don't always have everything under control and we have to remind ourselves that that’s okay too.

There is something here for the people who love the strong ones, too. Don't assume that someone is coping simply because they are competent. Don't assume that because they are managing work, family and everyone else's problems, they don't need anything themselves. Ask, and sometimes ask again. “How are you?” has become such an automatic question that we don't always stop to listen to the answer. Asking, “How have you actually been?” can be different, especially if you are prepared to give the person enough time and space to answer honestly.

The person who always seems to have everything together may not need rescuing. They may simply need somewhere to put some of what they've been carrying. I think that is part of what strength looks like too. It is knowing that you don't have to carry everything on your own and knowing when it is time to put something down.