Entry 5: Strength = Survival

Prompt: “When did I first learn that being strong came with a cost?” Write about the moment (or season) when you realized that your strength—your ability to hold it together, to perform, to persevere—wasn’t always celebrated…but expected. And how that expectation shaped the way you love, rest, protect yourself, or ask for help.

Ask yourself:

• Who first called me strong? Did it feel like a compliment or a warning?

• What parts of me did I have to quiet in order to keep being seen that way?

• What would softness look like if I didn’t fear it would be mistaken for weakness?

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At a high-level and a subconscious one, strength is entangled with survival — of course, that’s in my mind and being. I’ve seen those I hold near and dear to me be strong as if they had no other choice. Strength has always been a means to desired outcomes like getting through another day, tending to the needs of the household, performing at work, and dealing with the burdens of the world. If anything, any other option besides meant failure. It meant disappointment. It meant death — maybe not literally — but maybe loss of self, of pride, or worth, and a succumbing to “weakness” — however you want to describe that.

Observing that close up, I think I learned that, or interpreted, strength as putting up a front. In essence, it’s dishonesty. It’s pretending everything is okay even when it’s not. It’s saying you’ve got it, even when you don’t. It’s saying you don’t mind, or it doesn’t bother you, although it’s aching to your core. 

It means distancing yourself from vulnerability. You don’t shed tears, at least not in public. You don’t ask for help. You don’t say when you’re lost, confused, or hurt. You deal with it and you move on. 

But I also saw strength as forgiveness — shedding the hardest parts of your past to live in the present and build a better future. And I, on the sidelines, wondered if I could ever. 

I saw strength as making do with what you have rather than wishing for what you don’t. 

I saw strength as being persistent and persevering until your day comes, or until you reach the dreams you’ve dreamed for days, months, or years. 

I saw strength as never giving up, especially on hope, in the darkest of days. 

And I saw strength as trusting in God, not always to solve, to be present and to care to have your back — always! 

So, at what cost have I become strong? 

Well, there are two sides to every coin. Some costs are worth the price, others not so much. 

Accepting help is challenging. I’ve got engrained, wrongfully, that I can do it all, or should do it all. And I need to do it alone because bringing others to the fold slows you down. The older I get, I do see myself shifting that mindset and finding the select few worthy of trusting to see the vision and follow through. I’m delegating and entrusting with intention. It’s less of a risk, and the journey is more fun when you’re not on it alone. 

Vulnerability. Thinking about it is the easiest way to demonstrate the difference between what you know and what you feel. I know it’s not weakness, if anything, it’s easy to “hide” behind a facade of it’s all okay. Letting the tears flow? Letting yourself crumble? Now there’s strength in that… truly believing it and putting it into practice is a cost I’m paying for still trying to live up to the definition of strength I’ve seen for so long.

Forgiveness isn’t easy, and I’ve come to see that there’s strength in letting go of resentment, negativity, and pain. Leaving the comfort of the darkness to seek the light of the unknown takes a strength in still learning to build. 

Resilience and resourcefulness, as well as persistence and perseverance, are all rooted firmly in my definition of strength. I think it’s an aspect that I hold the most dear. Rather than float to the clouds — not that there’s anything wrong with that — I prefer to stay grounded and focused on what is or even what can be and strive to overcome any obstacles blocking my path to cross the bridge from one side to the other. 

Strength is when I keep going even when I don’t want to, or when I show up even when I don’t feel like it.

The younger me saw strength as putting up a facade and always figuring it out. The older me is redefining strength as carrying as much as I can on this day and at this moment and allowing it to fluctuate. It’s asking and accepting help, and knowing that does not infringe on my worth. It’s forgiving those who have caused pain, aches, or made shed tears, whether purposely or unintentionally. It’s letting others into what I’m crafting, envisioning, building, processing, or creating, and understanding that my strengths and recognizing that multiple possibilities bolsters our collective success.

It’s not blinking to keep the tears away, but giving the tears permission to fall.

It’s giving voice to the tightness in my chest, the fast-paced breathing, and the spiraling thoughts. 

It’s setting boundaries to protect my space. It’s knowing that I don’t have to explain the why or give details to support the firm no. It’s empowering me to decide and entrusting that I’ll make the right choice with the facts and with my faith. 

And faith. Most importantly, it’s knowing I can do anything with the strength God gives me, especially during the lowest lows. And the beauty in that is that it comes with no costs, just blessings.

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Note: Lessons from My 20s is A reflective series by Black Bonnet Girls. Lessons from My 20s is a journal-style series capturing the unfiltered truths, tender moments, and tiny awakenings that come with growing up and growing into yourself.  These entries are for anyone who’s ever felt stuck between who they’ve been and who they’re becoming. For the overthinkers, the late bloomers, the quiet dreamers, and the loud feelers. Through storytelling, reflection, and honesty, I hope this space becomes a soft landing—for me and for you.