Fuck Strong I Wanna Be Held
Fuck “Strong.” I Want to Be Held.
I’m tired.
Not “need a nap” tired.
Soul-tired. Nervous-system tired.
Tired of carrying it alone.
There’s a sentence that’s been running under my life like a river:
It doesn’t matter what I say… no one listens to me.
Not “they disagree.”
Not “they don’t get it.”
They don’t receive it.
They interrupt.
They correct.
They overlay their story on top of mine.
And somehow I’m the problem for reacting.
So yeah eventually you stop speaking.
And people call that “resilience.”
They call it “strength.”
They call it “stoic.”
NO.
That’s a kid learning that needing isn’t safe.
That’s a body learning that truth gets punished.
That’s a nervous system learning: shut up, stay useful, don’t make it worse.
That’s not a character trait.
And here’s the part that nobody wants to hear:
And I’ve yet to meet a man who will say it.
“I don’t want to be strong. I want to be held.”
I want somebody to put their arms around me and mean it when they say:
“I got you.”
Not as a concept.
Not as advice.
Not as a pep talk.
As a felt experience.
Because I’ve spent my whole life being the container.
Holding the line. (protector)
Reading the room. (Radar Kid)
Managing the chaos. (the Fixer)
Carrying the load. (Strong One)
And the truth is… there was no safe adult.
No one to pass it off to.
No one who could hold me without needing me to be okay for them.
So I learned the worst lesson:
My needs don’t matter.
And that lesson turns you into a ghost inside your own life.
You get good at functioning.
You get good at competence.
You get good at “fine.”
But inside you’re just braced. Always bracing…..
Jaw tight.
Traps tight.
Scanning.
Always ready.
And when you finally start to feel it, and i mean really feel it.
It hits like grief with teeth:
I was a fucking child. I didn’t deserve what I got.
And I’m tired of being alone with it.
So no…..don’t tell me I’m strong.
If you want to actually help?
Don’t fix me.
Don’t coach me.
Don’t make it about you.
Just be an accurate mirror.
Hold the silence.
Stay.
Because I’m not a problem to solve.
I’m a human who’s done carrying it alone. And I want to be Held.
I don’t want to be called strong.
Not because it’s “wrong.”
Because it’s lazy.
“Strong” is what people say when they don’t know how to sit with you.
It’s a compliment that quietly means:
Keep going. Don’t make this real for me.
And I’m tired of being someone’s inspirational storyline.
I don’t want to be strong.
I want to be held.
I want someone to sit with me and not try to fix it.
Not lecture me.
Not reframe it.
Not turn it into their story.
Just:
“Yeah. I hear you.”
“I’ve got you.”
“You don’t have to carry this alone right now.”
Because sometimes “strong” is just what you become when you had no choice.
And you didn’t become it from confidence
you became it from too much alone.
So yeah:
Fuck strong.
Give me safe.
Give me steady.
Give me a regulated presence I can finally exhale into.
