The Silent Weight of "Holding it All Together"
We’ve all seen that person who seems like they have it together.
Maybe it’s you. Sometimes it’s me.
You’re organized. Reliable. You show up, get it done, and people count on you. On the outside, you’re doing just fine. Maybe even more than fine.
But on the inside? You’re tired. Like really friggin tired. You’re carrying so much, but because you’re the strong one, the capable one, the one who always figures it out, no one ever thinks to ask how you are.
I can’t count how many people I’ve met through my work—clients, colleagues, even other therapists—who carry this invisible weight. They don’t always come to therapy saying, “I’m burned out” or “I’m anxious.”
They say things like:
“I don’t know why I’m so snappy lately.”
“I just want to disappear for a while and not have to explain it to anyone.”
“I don’t feel like myself, but I don’t even know what that means anymore.”
I am embarrassed to admit this but for a while, I kind of hoped I got into a car accident. Not like a seriously injured kind of car accident, but just enough so that someone could take care of me for the week. Awful, I know! This is the cost of holding it all together for too long without being held yourself.
Somewhere along the way, a lot of us learned that being strong meant not needing help. It meant staying calm, staying busy, staying in control. But being “fine” all the time isn’t strength. It’s survival mode. And it works—until it doesn’t.
Because under the surface, you’re still human. You still need rest, softness, support. You still deserve space to say, “I’m not okay,” without immediately following it with, “But I’m fine.”
One of the biggest myths about therapy is that it’s only for people who are falling apart. But the truth is, some of the strongest people I know are the ones who choose support before it gets to that point. They know that holding it all together can’t be the whole plan forever.
They’re ready for a better one.
If that’s you? You don’t need to explain everything perfectly.
You don’t need to wait until it’s “bad enough.”
You’re allowed to be tired—and still worthy of care.
We see you. We’ve got you.