As a child, I thought that a "strong woman" is one who never cries, always knows what to do, and can do anything in the world. We see such images in films, hear them in songs, read them in books. And it's as if an invisible bar grows inside: you can't show that you are in pain, you can't ask for help, you can't slow down.

But one day I realized that fatigue is hiding behind this armor. When you keep yourself in hand all the time, you begin to lose real feelings. People admire your "resilience", but you yourself no longer remember the last time you allowed yourself to just hug someone and say: "I'm having a hard time right now."

Strength isn't just about coping. It's also about being honest with yourself. About being able to stop and admit, "I need support." It's about being able to trust. Vulnerability doesn't make us weak - it makes us alive.

When I stopped being afraid of my "weak" sides, I suddenly felt like I could breathe easier. You don't have to pretend that you're in control when you really just want someone to be there. And maybe a woman's true strength is in stopping playing the role of the strong one and allowing herself to be real.