Over time, this became part of my character. I really was capable of many things myself. I solved everyday problems, earned money, supported others, and pulled myself together in difficult situations faster than many. I was called strong, reliable, and mature. And I used to like it.

But no one ever said that strength has a downside.

No one notices when a strong woman is struggling. People get used to the idea that she can handle it. They don't offer her help because "she can do it all." They feel less sorry for her, and they rarely ask how she's doing. Even in a relationship with such a woman, a man sometimes relaxes too much. After all, if she can handle everything herself, why bother?

I first felt this after a difficult period at work. I was experiencing fatigue, problems at home, anxiety, and insomnia. And at one point, I just burst into tears in the kitchen because the tea was gone. Not because of the tea, of course. Because of everything at once.

Then I realized: I'm not made of iron. I've simply been playing the role of someone who doesn't need anything for too long.

The hardest part was learning to ask. To say: Help me. Be there. I'm struggling. I can't cope today. These simple words were harder than any task.

But it was after them that life became more honest. Because true intimacy doesn't begin where you hold yourself together perfectly, but where you can be alive. Tired. Confused. Real.

Now I'm still strong. But not in the old sense. Strength for me now means not bearing everything silently. It's about recognizing that I'm human too. And I, too, sometimes need support.