The Quiet Kind of Strong
The strength I have been carrying is not the loud kind. It is the kind that simply kept going. I am allowed to recognize it now.
You may not feel strong this morning. You may feel like the smallest breath could tip you over. The mirror may not show you a strong person. You may feel only how tired you are, how thin the rope is, how much it has cost to keep holding on.
But look, gently, at what is true. You got out of bed today. You opened this book. You are reading these words. You did not do those things because you are strong in any cinematic way. You did them because you are still here, and because the part of you that has been keeping you here is far more durable than your tired mind can presently believe.
The strength you have is the quiet kind. It is the kind that put one foot in front of the other when there was no audience and no reward. It is the kind that fed you on the days you did not want to be fed. It is the kind that answered the phone when answering felt impossible, or did not answer the phone when not-answering was the harder choice. It is the kind that kept your child's lunch made, your bills mostly paid, your small daily life moving in its ordinary shape, even while everything inside you was working twice as hard as anyone could see.
You do not need to dramatize that. You do not need to prove it. You do not need to feel it as bravery to know that it is what you have been doing.
The loud kinds of strength are not the only kinds. They may not even be the truest. The truest strength is mostly the slow, faithful kind — the kind that simply continues. You have it. You have been using it. You can let yourself be tired and let yourself rest, and the quiet strength underneath will be there tomorrow too, the way it has been there all this time.