Dear Diary,
During one of my usual scrolls—don’t judge me—I came across a message by Rachel Marie Martin of Finding Joy addressed “to the strong ones.”
And apparently, the internet had decided to mind my business again.
Because the more I read, the more I thought about how often I’ve heard:
“Kia, you’re so strong.”
I know it’s meant as a compliment.
It’s usually said with admiration, love, encouragement, and the very best intentions.
But every now and then, when someone tells me how strong I am, there’s a little voice inside my head asking:
What exactly was the alternative?
Because there have been plenty of moments in my life when strength wasn’t something I chose.
It was simply what was required.
💪🏾 I Didn’t Volunteer for the Strong Friend Position
There was no application.
No interview.
No orientation packet.
Nobody handed me a cute little badge that said:
Congratulations! You’ve been selected for a lifetime position in resilience. Benefits include character development, questionable coping mechanisms, and absolutely no PTO.
I just kept going.
I wasn’t strong because I always felt brave.
There were times I was strong because life kept moving whether I was ready or not.
Bills still had to be paid.
Responsibilities didn’t disappear because I was overwhelmed.
People still needed me.
Morning kept showing up, so eventually I did too.
Life happened, and I adapted.
Things hurt, and I survived them.
Things changed, and I changed with them.
Sometimes gracefully.
Sometimes kicking and screaming.
Sometimes with humor.
Sometimes with tears.
And occasionally with a combination of all four before breakfast.
That’s the part people don’t always see when they call someone strong.
Strength has a backstory.
And that story isn’t always particularly pretty.
🌻 Strength Can Be Exhausting
There’s a version of strength that looks beautiful from the outside.
She handles things.
She shows up.
She helps everybody.
She laughs.
She checks on people.
She gets things done.
She finds a way.
But nobody necessarily sees what happens when she finally gets somewhere she can put everything down.
Because the strong person can be tired of being strong.
She may not need another person telling her how amazingly she handles everything.
She may need someone to notice that handling everything is costing her something.
Strength and exhaustion can exist in the same person at the same time.
Being capable doesn’t mean I never need help.
Being independent doesn’t mean I always want to do everything myself.
Being resilient doesn’t mean things don’t hurt me.
And making people laugh certainly doesn’t mean I haven’t cried.
Trust me.
Humor and emotional distress have shared custody of me for years. 😂
🫶🏾 The Problem With Always Figuring It Out
There’s another side to being labeled “the strong one” that we don’t talk about enough.
Once people become accustomed to watching you survive, they can stop asking whether you should have to survive everything alone.
She’ll figure it out.
She’s got it.
Kia always lands on her feet.
And most of the time?
I probably will.
I’ll troubleshoot.
I’ll rearrange.
I’ll research.
I’ll make a list.
I’ll create Plan B, Plan C, and probably Plan D because apparently anxiety and project management occasionally collaborate. 😂
Eventually, I’ll figure something out.
But occasionally?
I’d like somebody to notice me before I’ve figured it out.
Before the solution.
Before I’ve cleaned up the mess.
Before I can laugh about it.
Before I can turn whatever happened into another funny story.
I don’t necessarily need someone to rescue me.
I just need someone to ask:
“Kia, are you okay?”
And actually stick around long enough to hear the answer.
Because there’s a difference between knowing I’ll probably figure it out and assuming I should always have to figure it out alone.
💜 Please Don’t Confuse My Survival Skills With Invincibility
When you’ve survived enough things, people can begin assuming you can survive anything.
And technically?
Maybe.
But that doesn’t mean I should have to.
There’s a difference between knowing someone can carry something and expecting them to keep carrying it.
I’ve carried responsibilities.
Expectations.
Disappointments.
Other people’s needs.
My own fears.
Dreams that changed.
Versions of myself I had to let go of.
And things I’ll probably never completely explain to anyone.
Some of those things made me stronger.
Others simply made me tired.
Most did a little of both.
And that’s something I’m still learning:
Surviving something doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
Survival can simply mean I found a way to keep moving while it hurt.
There’s no trophy for that.
No medal.
No bonus points for making it look easy.
And there definitely isn’t a prize for suffering quietly.
🌻 Sometimes Strength Looks Nothing Like Strength
Strength isn’t always standing tall with your shoulders back and confidently announcing:
“I’ve got this.”
Sometimes strength sounds more like:
“I absolutely do NOT have this, but apparently we’re doing it anyway.”
It can be getting out of bed.
Setting a boundary.
Saying no without writing a five-paragraph essay explaining why.
That one deserves repeating:
No is a complete sentence.
I’m still working on that one. 😂
Strength can be admitting:
“I need help.”
It can mean walking away.
Starting over.
Resting without feeling obligated to earn the rest first.
Changing your mind after receiving new information.
Or simply allowing yourself to fall apart for a minute instead of spending all your energy convincing everyone else that you’re fine.
Because vulnerability doesn’t erase strength.
Needing help doesn’t cancel independence.
Rest doesn’t mean weakness.
And crying doesn’t somehow revoke my Strong Woman Membership Card.
🌻 To the Other Strong Ones
Maybe that’s why the message I read stayed with me.
Underneath everything about strength was something even more important:
I see you.
And sometimes that’s exactly what the strong person needs.
Not another compliment about everything they accomplish.
Not another reminder of how much they can handle.
Not another:
“I don’t know how you do it.”
Just acknowledgment of the person underneath all that resilience.
So this entry isn’t only for me.
It’s for the strong friend.
The dependable one.
The fixer.
The person everybody calls because:
“You’ll know what to do.”
The person carrying something nobody else knows about.
The person laughing in public and decompressing in private.
The person trying to break cycles so the next generation doesn’t inherit the same burdens.
The person who is tired but still trying.
I see you.
Not just your strength.
Not just your resilience.
Not just everything you manage to carry.
You.
And maybe today you don’t need another reminder that you’re strong.
Maybe you need permission to hear something else:
You don’t have to prove your strength every single day.
You are allowed to need people.
You are allowed to have boundaries.
You are allowed to change your mind.
You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to say:
“This is too much.”
You are allowed to admit that something hurt you even if you survived it.
You are allowed to put something down simply because it has become too heavy.
And you are allowed to be loved for who you are—not merely admired for how much you can endure.
🎵 Music Playing…
“Superwoman” — Alicia Keys
Because being the woman who keeps showing up doesn’t mean there aren’t days when the cape feels heavy.
Even Superwoman needs somewhere safe to put it down.
💭 Reflection Corner
I’m learning that strength isn’t measured by how much I can carry without complaining.
Maybe real strength is knowing when something has become too heavy.
Maybe it’s allowing the people who love me to see behind the curtain.
Maybe it’s understanding that vulnerability doesn’t cancel resilience.
Maybe it’s asking for help before I’ve reached the point where I have absolutely nothing left to give.
And maybe after spending so much of my life proving that I can handle things, my next lesson is realizing:
I don’t always have to.
That might be one of the hardest lessons of all.
Because when you’ve spent years being the person who figures things out, putting something down can feel strangely uncomfortable.
Asking for help can feel unnatural.
Resting can feel irresponsible.
But I’m learning.
So when someone tells me:
“Kia, you’re so strong.”
I’ll still appreciate the love behind it.
Because they’re right.
I am strong.
I’ve survived things.
I’ve rebuilt things.
I’ve adapted.
I’ve grown.
I’ve figured things out when I didn’t know how I was going to figure them out.
And I’ll probably continue doing exactly that.
But please remember:
I am also human.
I need help sometimes.
I need reassurance sometimes.
Every once in a while, I’d really appreciate somebody else figuring it out.
I need to cry.
I need to laugh until whatever is bothering me doesn’t feel quite as heavy.
And I need to know that the people who love me see more than the woman who always manages to keep going.
They see the woman underneath the strength, too.
And sometimes the strongest thing I can do is put the cape down.
Preferably somewhere I can find it later.
Because apparently nobody informed life that Superwoman has office hours. 😂
💬 Your Turn
Have you ever become so accustomed to being “the strong one” that the people around you forgot you might need someone to be strong for you, too?
Or maybe you know someone who is always the dependable one, the fixer, the person who somehow keeps everything together.
Check on them.
Not because you think they’re falling apart.
But because strong people deserve somewhere safe to put things down, too.
Thank you for spending a little time with me inside The Dual Diagnosis Diaries | Kia’s Journey. 🌻
If something in my journey made you laugh, reflect, feel understood, or simply reminded you that you aren’t alone, please like, subscribe, share, or pass this entry along to someone who may need it.
Until next time, I’ll keep learning, growing, laughing when I can, and figuring out this beautifully complicated thing called life—one diary entry at a time.
Founder • Author • Advocate • Future Wellness Coach
Kia Lorice
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries 💜
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