How to Grieve When You’re the Strong One Everyone Leans On
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You’ve always been the strong one.
The one who makes the calls. Who coordinates the meals, signs the documents, holds your loved one’s hand with steady grace. Maybe you’re the one who’s always been that way—reliable, calm, composed. Or maybe you became that person because someone had to.
But when someone dies, when someone is dying, or when the ache of what’s coming weighs heavier than words—you are still human. And strong doesn’t mean invincible.
Grief Has a Strange Way of Hiding in the Strong
Grief doesn’t always look like tears. For those carrying the weight for everyone else, it can feel like:
Constant fatigue, even after sleep
Feeling numb or “spaced out”
Anxiety, irritability, or sudden anger
Difficulty remembering things
A quiet sense of emptiness—like you’re standing in the middle of a room, but not fully in your body
You might hear yourself saying, “I’m fine. I just need to get through this.” But the body keeps score. So does the heart.
Grieving in Silence Isn’t Strength—it’s Survival
If you’re grieving while also holding space for a family, a community, or a partner… you are doing sacred work. But it’s okay to name what that work costs.
Strength doesn’t mean performing peace for others. And it doesn’t mean carrying everything and collapsing in private.
It’s okay to fall apart. It’s okay to feel lost. It’s okay to need someone to hold you.
You Deserve Support, Too
Here are a few ways you can gently support your own grief, even when you don’t feel like there’s time:
Write without punctuation.
Set a timer for five minutes. Let your thoughts spill. Don’t edit, don’t filter.
Create a private ritual.
Light a candle every night. Whisper their name. Let silence say the things you can’t.
Ask someone to just listen.
No fixing. No advice. Just presence. (You can ask for that—yes, even you.)
Tend to your body.
Drink water. Eat something warm. Let your feet touch the ground and remember that you are still here, too.
You Don’t Have to Hold It All Alone
As a death doula, I don’t just support the dying—I also hold space for the living. For the ones who are walking alongside someone they love and feel like they’re unraveling in the background.
You deserve a place where you don’t have to be strong. Where your grief doesn’t have to look a certain way. Where you can be messy, undone, and still deeply supported.
Because you are carrying so much. And someone should carry you, too.
Interested in having someone walk beside you through this?
Let’s talk. You don’t need to have the words. You just need to show up.