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The Invisible Weight of Being the “Strong Friend” All the Time

It’s a different kind of exhaustion to be the strongest friend. It becomes exhausting to be the person people turn to, it’s exhausting to be the one who does it all, it exhausts one to be the one who sits and listens and who springs into action when walls come crumbling down. You’re the one who’s viewed as venerating-respectful and capable. Strong. But it’s so much more than complications than anyone could ever know.

The Problem Is You Started Out That Way

People fall unintentionally (innocently) into such a role. I suggest we should break up; I need someone to help me pack my boxes; I just need someone to unload upon about how miserable work was today. All good things, all good intentions that make me feel good that I’ve helped. It’s meaningful, there’s gratitude involved in being sought out because it’s clear you’re the one who will definitely show up.

And while over time it becomes less of a favor asked and more of an expected arrangement with strong friends, it’s because good friends can handle it all. They are not going to fall apart. They have excess emotional space. They have the receipts as to why they need that train and they need it now.

The average person does not think that, you know what, I want to be taken advantage of, let people come to me all day and let me ignore my own needs in the meantime. It happens when people realize they can depend on people.

But there’s one caveat. People assume they have an unlimited reserve of emotional space, and none exist. What happens is that when the narrative shifts because someone dares to say that they cannot take on any more, and how dare they say that because that’s all they’ve ever been and how dare no one say it’s been a possibility all along, narratives come crashing down.

There’s an Invisible Price of Being Needed

What’s the point when you give so much of your strength to everyone else and have none for yourself? When the people that mean most to you, who knows you best, operates as if you have everything together, why would you show weakness? Why would you burden them with your problems when you can compartmentalize and manage it all by yourself without interjecting anyone else? What if they can’t handle you vulnerable? What if they don’t know what to do with you when you’re down in the dumps? What if they leave you because you’re not who they thought you were in the first place?

It’s not an unreasonable fear; too many strong friends have divulged their weakness only for people to either awkwardly look down at their shoes in embarrassment or overly change the topic hoping to find something more positive instead. Others say that they’re annoyed or confused as to why their strong friend is down in the dumps, since they’ve never seen this person before, and that spells trouble.

So these strong friends keep trudging on and taking on everything everyone feels in addition to their own stressors and heartbreaks and exhaustion, because it’s not so bad because they’ve been playing make-believe all along. They get good at wearing happy faces, and ensuring conversations that are never about themselves remain about them enough so it doesn’t eventually grow into a dark horse that’s been kept at bay behind closed doors for who knows how long.

When The Body Remembers What The Mind Wants To Forget

There are physical consequences of being everyone else’s emotional supports, the emotional labor of cortisol floating through your system but never overtly; it’s subtle until you realize it results in tension headaches, insomnia, digestive problems, and immune systems that can’t fight off any virus even considering that yes, you’ve been taking your D3 and elderberry shots every day for the past year.

You focus on your body.

When strong friends in Denver and beyond succumb over years to what’s too good to be true, and eventually working with a therapist in Denver becomes unavoidable as someone digs into the history of this person who’s put everyone else above themselves for far too long.

There’s rarely a breaking point, it’s usually just a body acknowledgment when they realize there’s no alignment with no one who’s ever been considered an option.

Then it breeds resentment, an understandable frustration, that feels unpopular to be uncomfortable with because no one forced anyone into such a role, but it becomes unfair because resentment isn’t logical; it’s born out of something that exists for years of reciprocal inequity where everything that isn’t yours gets bulldozed through without so much as a second glance but becomes urgent three months down the line for someone else.

It’s Unfair but You Can’t Do Anything About It

People know they’ve gone too far from being that strong friend because it’s both frustrating and disheartening to realize nothing’s changed. Those who make themselves out of being the strong existence feel punished when they realize this needs to shift into something else.

It’s ingrained over years or decades, are you going to let other people down? It feels selfish. Are you going to give them enough rope that they’ll hang themselves? It feels stupid because now you’ve painted yourself into a corner without anyone acknowledging that you weren’t as strong as everyone thought you were in the first place.

But there’s also fear from never seeing this friend again, will they even want me in their life at that point? Do they genuinely care about who I am or do they care about what I’ve done for them? It’s painful to sideline such thoughts so most people just play the game they’ve always played.

People often play games when it comes to numbers, other people deserve help first, they’re just optional for us finally, with relative ease without discomfort brought on by social vulnerabilities trusted within stable relationships going forward unfortunately so they’re doomed to fail if this ultimate level of perfection is expected from either party stepping into these roles from now on unless otherwise stated.

The Changing Starts Within

Finally, people know when they’ve gone too far from being that strong friend because it’s both frustrating and disheartening to realize nothing changes. Those who create themselves out of strong existence feel punished when they realize this needs to shift into something else. It’s ingrained over years or decades, let people down? It feels selfish. Let them have enough rope that they’ll hang themselves? It feels ridiculous because then you’ve exposed yourself not as strong as everyone believed you were in the first place.

But there’s also fear from being unoperational without this friend anymore, will they want me in their life? Do they truly care about who I am or only what I’ve done for them? It’s painful to leave unacknowledged so most people play the game they’ve always played.

People usually play the game when it comes to volume, people should be helped first, they’re just optional finally, with relative ease without discomfort brought on by social vulnerabilities trusted within stable connections made going forward disappointingly so they’re destined for failure if this ultimate level of perfection expected through either party stepping into these roles from now on is doomed unless said otherwise.

When It Becomes You…

When you operate based on how someone else sees you, however, due to your actions feeling like home, then it comes at the cost of your mental health.

It’s like someone saying that their spouse is always home right at five with dinner made and enough talk about work creates a business arrangement that’s inappropriate but works well for all parties, but no one talks about how being stuck at home frustrates the other spouse, and so forth, and finally someone gets resentful when raising children alone, but no one ever saw that coming.

It ultimately becomes physically taxing as well, they don’t need external support all day, their mind is running rampant, and stress creates tension in their bodies.

Strong friends succumb over years to what’s too good to be true, and eventually working with a Denver therapist becomes necessary to untangle a history of putting everyone else before themselves for far too long.

There’s rarely a breaking point, its merely a body acknowledgment when they realize they’re not aligned with no one ever considered an option.

Then it breeds resentment, an understandable frustration, that feels unpopular to feel because no one forced anyone into such a role but it’s unfair because resentment isn’t logical; it sprouts from years of reciprocal imbalance where everything that isn’t yours gets plowed through without so much as a second glance but becomes urgent three months down the line for someone else.