Disclaimer: This post discusses grief and loss and may evoke strong emotions. Please read with care and prioritize your well-being.

Today, I hit a wall with the constant “stay strong” comments. I know people mean well when they say it—it’s their way of encouraging me, of trying to help. But it feels like they don’t see how long I’ve been strong, how much effort it’s taken to keep going while carrying so much pain inside.

Strength isn’t what I need right now. If anything, I need to crumble. I need to let myself feel the weight of everything I’ve been holding back. I’ve stayed strong for so long, putting on a brave face, pushing through the days, but it feels like that strength has built a wall between me and my ability to truly heal.

It’s exhausting, this constant fight to hold myself together. What if, instead of staying strong, I let myself be weak? What if I gave in to the tears, the anger, the grief I’ve been suppressing? Maybe that’s what I need to finally let go of the pain—to stop pretending I’m okay and allow myself to break, even if just for a little while.

And more than that, I need care. I’ve been caring for so long—carrying others, offering support, being the rock everyone leans on. But right now, I’m the one who needs someone to hold me, to check on me, to remind me that I don’t have to do this alone. I’ve poured so much of myself into others that I’m running on empty, and I need to be refilled.

I wish people could see that being weak isn’t failure. It’s part of the process. Strength has served me well, but now I need softness, vulnerability, and the courage to fall apart. Maybe that’s the only way I’ll ever be able to move forward. And maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to ask for care as much as I’ve given it.

I wish I could greet you all Merry Christmas. But this ain’t the most wonderful time for me to say it.