I’m Tired of Being a Strong Woman (But the Trash Still Needs to Be Taken Out)

INTRO

Sometimes I think God took a nap when designing my life.

Because somehow I ended up being the woman who fixes lightbulbs, comforts adults, handles crises, and still remembers to buy almond milk.

Nobody taught me how to be “strong.” I just became strong because there was no one else around.

I wasn’t born an alpha. I evolved into one like a Pokémon. Except instead of cool powers, I got stress acne and back pain from carrying everyone’s emotional baggage.

At some point, being strong stopped being empowering and started feeling like a prison sentence… with glitter. Because yeah, I still look cute. But I'm exhausted.

Wanna know what it feels like to be “the strong one”? It’s like being the Wi-Fi in the house: everyone depends on you, nobody appreciates you, and the second you go down — everyone freaks out.

I Became the Man I Wanted to Marry

I didn’t mean to. One day I was dreaming of love, warmth, and someone who knew how to unclog a sink. Next thing I knew — I was the one doing it all… in fuzzy socks and silent rage.

I paid the bills. I carried the groceries. I gave pep talks to grown men who ghosted me after they “weren’t ready for a relationship.” I even learned how to open jars with a spoon and a deep sigh.

And somewhere along the way, I became the man I was waiting for.

I was the protector, the provider, the planner. I handled the apartment, the taxes, the breakdowns (mine and theirs). I even fixed my own damn broken heart — several times — with the same emotional duct tape I used on everyone else.

You know what’s wild? Nobody claps for you when you’re emotionally available, financially responsible, and spiritually self-aware. You just become “too much” for people who bring “vibes” and no backbone.

And no, this isn’t about hating men. I still love men. I just… miss being the woman in the room.

Because lately I feel like the plumber, the therapist, the handyman, and the human Google — all in one body. (And none of them take naps.)

Alpha Female Burnout Is Not a Myth, It’s My Tuesday

You know what being an “alpha female” actually means?

It means never getting the passenger seat in life — because you’re always the one driving the damn car, navigating the traffic, choosing the playlist, and pretending you’re fine while silently Googling “symptoms of emotional burnout.”

At first, it felt good. The compliments. The admiration. “You’re so independent!” “You don’t need a man!” “You’re a boss!”

Yes, thank you, I am. And also — I cry while folding laundry and fantasize about a man who says, “Babe, I handled it.”

I’m not strong. I’m tired. Tired of holding everyone together while nobody notices when I’m unraveling.

Burnout for women like me isn’t loud. It’s subtle. It’s silent. It’s internal screaming in a meeting while smiling politely.

• Saying “of course!” when you want to say “absolutely not.”
• Helping everyone else heal while your own soul is on 5% battery.
• Still making it to brunch with perfect eyeliner because… performance.

“You’re intimidating,” they say. No, baby. I’m just used to doing everything by myself. Try loving me — and I might finally put the sword down.

I Miss My Softness. I Miss Me.

I used to be soft. Like cry-during-Disney-movies soft. Like daydreaming-on-bus-rides soft. Like “let me bake you banana bread because I like your face” soft.

Now? I Google how to cancel energy-draining people. I scroll through texts and think, “He doesn’t deserve this version of me.” I’m soft in theory… and armored in practice.

But deep down — I miss her. The girl I used to be.

The one who believed love was a language, not a negotiation. The one who didn’t flinch when someone touched her heart gently. The one who said “I need you” without immediately following it up with “...but I’m fine if you leave.”

I miss the woman who cried openly. Who hugged for a little too long. Who laughed at her own jokes before finishing them. Who didn’t need to prove she could survive alone to feel worthy.

Now, I catch myself apologizing for being tired. For needing help. For not being in the mood to carry everyone’s expectations like emotional kettlebells.

When did I decide that softness was weakness? When did I trade gentleness for grit? When did I become the fortress and forget about the flowers?

I’m not saying I want to be helpless. I’m saying I want to be held.

There’s a difference.

Let Me Fall Apart, Just Once, Without Explaining Myself

I don’t want a savior. I want someone who doesn’t flinch when I break down.

Let me fall apart — not because I’m weak, but because I’ve been holding it together for way too long.

Let me sit on the kitchen floor at 2 AM, in an old t-shirt with mascara halfway down my cheeks, eating cereal out of the box — and don’t you dare say, “You’ll be okay.” Just sit. Be there. Hold space.

Let me not explain myself for once. Not justify my tiredness. Not schedule my healing between meetings. Not feel guilty for asking, “Can you carry me for a bit?”

Because here’s the thing: Strength is beautiful. But so is surrender. And I’m ready to stop fighting to be seen and start allowing myself to be felt.

I’m tired of being strong. I want to be safe. I want to be soft. I want to be me — the version I abandoned in the name of survival.

I miss being a woman. Not a machine. Not a role. Not a brand.

Just a woman. With bruised knees and a messy laugh. With joy that doesn’t need permission. With hands that still shake, but reach anyway. With eyes that water — and don’t hide it anymore.

If you’re tired too — it’s okay to sit. I’ll scoot over on the floor. There’s room.

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Keywords: tired of being a strong woman, alpha female burnout, divine feminine, how to stop being masculine, I miss being a woman