The Strength in Sisterhood: When the Strong Friend Learns to Receive

I have always been the strong friend—the one who listens, who holds space, who shows up when someone is in need. The one who carries others, making sure everyone else is okay—even when I’m not. It’s not just what I do; it’s who I am.

But when I’m struggling? I withdraw.

Not because I don’t have people who care, but because vulnerability has never felt safe to me. It reminds me of wounds I’d rather not reopen, of moments in my childhood when being vulnerable meant being powerless. A long time ago, I made a silent vow: I will never be a victim again. And so, I built walls—tall, impenetrable, and designed to protect me from anything that felt too raw, too uncertain, too exposed.

But every fortress has cracks.

The Loneliness of Being "The Strong One"

When you are the strong friend, people assume you don’t need help. They admire your resilience, your ability to carry it all, your unshakable presence. But the truth is, strength can be lonely.

There have been moments when I’ve felt emotionally overwhelmed, and instead of reaching out, I disappeared. I convinced myself that no one would understand—not because they didn’t care, but because I didn’t even have the words to explain what I was feeling. I have spent so much time tending to others’ emotions that sitting with my own feels foreign, even uncomfortable.

And yet, despite my resistance, there are women in my life who refuse to let me suffer in silence.

The Women Who See Me

There are a few women—women I admire deeply—who have shown up for me in ways I can never repay. They see beyond my strength, past the image of the one who "has it all together."

They see me.

They don’t demand explanations. They don’t push me to speak before I’m ready. They simply sit with me, even in silence.

They tell me the hard truths when I need to hear them. They push me to be the best version of myself, not just in how I give to others, but in how I allow myself to receive. They remind me that I don’t have to hold it all alone. That I, too, deserve softness. That even I need a safe place to land.

The Power of Vulnerability in Sisterhood

For so long, I thought vulnerability was a risk I couldn’t afford to take. But I’m learning that true sisterhood requires vulnerability. It thrives in the moments when we let our guards down, when we stop performing and allow ourselves to be seen.

Sisterhood is not just about celebrating the wins, laughing over brunch, or taking cute pictures on vacation. It’s about:

• The friend who notices your silence and asks, “Are you okay?”—and means it.

• The sister who sits with you in your grief, without rushing you to “get over it.”

• The women who remind you that you are not a burden, even when you feel like one.

  
  

It’s easy for me to be this person for others. Holding space is what I do as a therapist, as a friend, as a woman who has learned to be strong. But learning to receive that same space? That’s a different kind of strength—one I am still growing into.

Allowing Myself to Receive

There’s something humbling about being surrounded by women who refuse to let you shrink. Who see the weight you carry and say, You don’t have to do this alone.

I used to think that allowing myself to be cared for made me weak. That admitting I was struggling meant I had failed in some way. But I’m learning that true strength is not in pretending to have it all together—it’s in knowing when to let someone else hold you up.

Because even the strong friend deserves to be seen. Even the healer needs healing. Even the one who carries others should have people who help carry her.

So today, I hold space for my gratitude—gratitude for the women who remind me that I don’t have to be invincible to be worthy of love. Gratitude for the sisterhood that teaches me, again and again, that I am not alone.

And if you, too, are the strong friend—the one who gives so much and struggles to receive—know this:

Let people show up for you. Let them sit with you. Let them remind you that even in your most vulnerable moments, you are still whole. You are still worthy. And you are never, ever alone.

How to Build Your Village as the Strong Friend

If you struggle to receive support, if vulnerability feels foreign, it’s time to create an intentional tribe that allows you to be held, not just hold others. Here’s how:

1. Identify the Safe Ones. Pay attention to the people in your life who genuinely care, who check on you without needing anything in return, who hold your truths without judgment.

2. Let People In—One Step at a Time. Vulnerability doesn’t have to mean baring your soul all at once. Start small—share a little, allow someone to support you in a simple way, and build from there.

3. Communicate Your Needs. People may assume you’re okay because you always seem strong. Let them know when you need support, even if it’s as simple as, “I just need someone to sit with me today.”

4. Be Intentional About Connection. Strong friendships don’t just happen; they are cultivated. Check in, make time for your tribe, and don’t let pride or busyness create distance.

5. Learn to Receive Without Guilt. You are not a burden. You deserve the same love, care, and support that you so freely give. Practice saying “yes” when people offer help.

Balancing the Weight: The Therapist, The Tribe, and The Boss in These Streets

As a therapist, I’ve spent countless hours holding space for others—creating room for healing, sitting with pain that is not my own, and offering guidance through the storms of life. It’s a privilege, a calling, and a responsibility I don’t take lightly.

But what I’ve learned—what I had to learn—is that I cannot carry the weight of my clients and take that weight home. I can hold space, but I cannot hold everything.

This work requires perspective. It requires healing of my own. It requires a safe space where I can exhale, because strength does not mean carrying it all alone.

And so, I lean on my tribe. On the women who remind me that I am not just a therapist, but a person with my own joys, my own struggles, my own need for rest and reflection. I am grateful for the spaces where I don’t have to be “on,” where I don’t have to fix or analyze—where I can simply be.

And let’s be clear—I’m still a boss in these streets. Demure, mindful, and moving with intention. The work I do is important, but it does not define all of me. I’ve learned the art of balance, the beauty of boundaries, and the power of knowing when to lean in and when to lean on.

Because healing isn’t just something I help others find—it’s something I actively embrace for myself.

Call to Action: Let Yourself Be Seen

This week, let someone be there for you. Accept help when it’s offered. Allow yourself to be held.

Reflection Question:

Who are the women in your life that make you feel safe? And if you don’t have them yet, what’s one step you can take to find them?

Because even the strong friend deserves to be seen. Even the healer needs healing. Even the one who carries others should have people who help carry her.

And that, my friend, is the beauty of sisterhood.