Want to know a secret? You don’t have to be the strong one all the time. If you’ve ever swallowed your pain to keep the peace, held your breath so someone else could breathe easier, or tiptoed through your own trauma just so no one else had to feel awkward, this one’s for you.
Let’s talk about the emotional weight of being The Protector for everyone else but yourself.
Let me tell you a story.
When my kids were little, we were swimming at my aunt’s condo pool. Sun shining, laughter echoing, splashes everywhere. Then the ground started shaking.
Yup. A good old Southern California earthquake.
My mom and aunt immediately began shouting from the edge: “Get the kids out of the pool! Get out! Get out of the water!”
Their panic was real.
Their fear was loud.
My inner ‘good child’, the ever-present people pleaser in me, immediately made me want to follow their directions. But my gut was saying something different.
You Don’t Have to Be the Strong One Even If You ARE Strong
So I wrapped my arms around my children in the shallow end and stayed put. The pool water rippled wildly, but I could feel my kids. I had them. It felt safer than trying to climb slick steps in an earthquake just to satisfy someone else’s sense of safety.
My mom and aunt were upset. Probably thought I was being stubborn. Maybe even reckless.
But when the shaking stopped, the arguing did too.
That’s when we heard it—fragile glass panels lining the entire event room just feet away from the pool. They were still trembling, swaying like something out of a suspense movie. If we had scrambled out of the pool like they wanted, we would’ve been standing right beneath them.
Here’s the thing: if I had prioritized their discomfort over my instinct, I might’ve wandered straight into danger.
And isn’t that the story for so many of us?
You Don’t Have to Be the Strong One For Anyone Else But Yourself
A lot of survivors become emotional shock absorbers. We anticipate needs, soothe others’ anxiety, and cushion the blow of reality. It starts out looking like strength. Grace under pressure. The one who keeps it all together.
Seriously, doesn’t it feel good when someone compliments you on your strength?
But there’s a cost. We put our own safety, healing, and truth on pause. And worse, we start believing that peace means keeping everyone else calm, even if it means abandoning ourselves in the process.
Wearing the protector cape gets heavy. Especially when it’s not recognized… or when it backfires. (And don’t forget what happens to superhero capes in the movie, “The Incredibles!”)
Silence Can Be a Survival Skill… Until It Becomes a Weight
Survivors often keep quiet to avoid conflict. We hold the hard stuff inside because we don’t want to upset the apple cart. Sometimes that silence was a necessary survival tool, but it can become a prison if we never step out of it.
When we constantly prioritize their comfort, we lose touch with our center. And that moment in the pool taught me that discomfort isn’t always danger. And sometimes danger hides behind other people’s certainty.
You’re Not Responsible for Everyone’s Emotional Weather
You are not the storm whisperer. You don’t have to control everyone else’s fear or soothe their nervous system just to feel worthy or safe.
Let your people be uncomfortable. Let them squirm. Let them process. You don’t have to fix that for them.
You get to protect your peace, even if it confuses or frustrates others. Especially if it saves you from standing under a metaphorical (or literal) wall of shattering glass.
Discomfort is Often a Part of Growth — It’s OK
That day, my kids stayed safe because I trusted my gut over someone else’s anxiety. But honestly? I didn’t really absorb the message that you don’t have to be the strong one until years later. And now, I wonder how that could have changed my peregrination.
Because when you’ve been trained to absorb everyone else’s emotions, it takes time to unlearn it. It takes practice to say, “I’m not climbing out of this pool just because you’re panicking.”
You’re allowed to trust yourself. Even when others think you’re wrong.
You’re allowed to choose safety, truth, and peace EVEN if it ruffles feathers.
You’re allowed to stop being the emotional shock absorber.
It’s okay to stay in the shallow end with the people you love, arms wrapped around what matters most, and wait for the shaking to stop.
This week’s My Ruby Slippers is called, “How I Told My Kids About My Abuse.” And basically, the title tells it all.
