Learning to Be Soft Again
creating space for softness in a world that praised my toughness
for most of my life, I was rewarded for being strong. for holding it together. for pushing through things that hurt me. people would say “you’re so resilient” or “you’re so mature for your age” and I’d smile, like that was a compliment—like it didn’t come from pain.
I learned how to hide my feelings so well that even I started forgetting they existed. I didn’t cry much. I didn’t ask for help. I became “low maintenance,” “easygoing,” “independent”—and slowly, I started losing touch with the parts of me that needed softness. gentleness. warmth.
but being strong all the time is exhausting. it’s lonely. it’s a quiet kind of ache.
I’m learning now that there’s power in softness. in saying “I’m not okay.” in needing support and letting someone show up for you. in taking up space without needing to perform. it’s not weakness—it’s honesty. it’s real.
the strongest thing I’ve ever done is give myself permission to rest. to cry. to need. to feel.
and if you’re in that same place—just know: softness isn’t something to be ashamed of. it’s something to come home to.