THE HIDDEN COST OF BEING THE STRONG ONE - WHY HIGH PERFORMERS FEEL SO ALONE | 23
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I've been feeling it in my own body. Life in this transition has been absolutely stunningly wonderful, and challenging. Transitions come with grief, and grief is exhausting. My neck and shoulders have been so stiff and tight, holding on to dear life, carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, seemingly. And you know what, I'm not even trying to pretend to be the strong one.
THE STORY
Especially during this season of transition, I've realized how much of my identity has been built around being "the strong one." I truly am strong, physically, mentally, spiritually. I am extremely capable, resourceful, devoted and whatever else it takes to live life to the fullest, following your own truth. And believe me, moving is not for the faint of heart! Have you had any big moves in your life? New cities, new countries, new continents? I stopped counting, and my estimate is around 30. Probably more. Might be interesting to look into that. I'll keep you posted. And, am I doing this alone. Yes, I always have friends, family, loved ones, cheering me on, supporting me, and ultimately it is on me to take those big life decisions. I am trying to keep it up, be reasonable, feel my emotions, get my shit together, keep building my business, show up for my friends, show up for my life, show up for dating. I'm not telling you this for pity or because I'm a victim. I am simply stating facts. I am relying on myself. You see, kinda full pendulum swing of what I've been telling you about previously. And also, it's fucking exhausting. It's heavy. No matter where, in family or business, all the weight we're carrying when we operate under this belief that nothing works without us, that we are irreplaceable. And I mean, yes, we are. And it's a lot of work. It comes with a lot of stress, pressure, and performance to always keep it up. Always showing up. Always being the one whose brain people want to pick. Always be responsible for so much. Again, exhausting! Might also be fun, to be so strong. But maybe, somewhere along the way, we learned that strength was the safest place to live.
So as I am navigating this transition, moving away from a place I called home for close to six years, kinda on the road again, two suitcases and a bike (I levelled up, it used to be one backpack), I am inspired to investigate my strength.
THE PATTERN
I love it. I absolutely love being strong and capable. Strength is absolutely stunning. But, again, maybe somewhere along the way, being strong was the only way to feel safe. Strength can quietly become armour. It is still hard for me to show myself in my despair, to call friends, family, to be witnessed in my grief, loved as I am. It's a fine line, where competence can slip into identity. I don't need anyone, I've got this. It's ok to not have it. It's ok to ask for help and support. But maybe the only way you know of to belong is achievement (hello, fellow athletes, looking at you). They say, hyper-independence is a trauma response. And we might also need it as proof that we are worthy. Once again, it starts so early. We get praised for doing things alone, being independent. I recently read an excellent article on how independence shows up and changes in gender roles HERE.
Especially when we are the eldest sibling, we are carrying so much. We are the responsible ones. We're the wise ones. We are the ones who maybe our parents, our caregivers relied on. So that's an early learned thing. And you know this strength being the strong one that becomes an armor too, right? We put on this armor. Maybe you're feeling it in your neck, in your shoulders, in your chest, your belly. It's a little hardened where there's no softening. There's no letting go. Perhaps you see a physio, maybe get regular massages and it only ever tickles the surface. Maybe there's shortlived, short experienced relief. And then a few days later, seizing up again. We're holding on again. We are carrying the weight of the world on our shoulders. We're carrying heavy. I'm not saying that you're not strong. As you are here, I assume you are very strong. You're extremely capable. You're perhaps extraordinarily intelligent. You have achieved many goals, many things in your life. You are highly productive. You're highly efficient. You're strong. Maybe you're an athlete. And strength is a huge part of your identity. And I love that. I love that for you. I'm, you know, pretty strong myself in in on all levels. And then at some point, I'm wondering how the strength becomes protection. It becomes such a big part of our identity, such a big part of who we are because that's what's expected of us. It's expected of us to be strong. Especially if you're a leader, if you're leading businesses, companies, teams, if you're the leader of your own success, of your own career, of your own life, it requires a tremendous amount of strenght. I know what to do. I know the next step. Or maybe you even mastered the strength of admitting that you don't know. And also that requires a lot of strength. Simply admitting I don't know. I have no idea what to do. And then maybe doubt is creeping in. Am I good enough? Will people still want to work with me? Will people still rely on me if I admit that I don't know? Side note, and with all your degrees, with all your certifications, (talked about that in previous letter), with all the certified wisdom, with all the certified competence, you've led teams, you've done this again, North American achievement culture, how we are perceived. And how valuable we are in our society is highly dependent on our things we've done so far in our lives, being hardly ever rewarded on the outside. And I imagine you're lonely. Competence can make us extremely lonely. On the outside, we appear to be extremely capable. We've got it together. We got the degrees, the certifications, the success, the sales, the numbers, maybe even the relationships. And on the inside, we are constantly fighting, struggling to keep the image alive, to never ask for help. That's really not how are meant to be. But, it's so challenging, the stronger we appear, the less likely we are to ask for help (pointing at myself here). I often still find asking for help soooooo hard!!! Uuuuuh, and I haven't even started on the receiving. The number of clients that come to me, wanting help with being able to truly enjoy a blowjob? Many, many. Hard to lay back and receive.
INVITATION
Keep your strength. Soften the armour. I know, easier said than done, or maybe you don't even see any benefit in loosening up a bit. There is this myth out there that being strong requires you to do it alone. I say, bullshit. Being strong requires you to do it together, to ask for help, to rely on the ones around you (scary, I know). That is real leadership, that is real power. Let yourself be seen and supported. Reach out. You are human. We are meant to do life together, in the light and in the dark. You are holding so much. And who holds you?
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