What does being strong mean?

What was

For a long time, strength was defined as not feeling.
Moving on quickly.
Holding it together.
Pushing through.

Pain was something to overcome, suppress, or leave behind.
Crying meant weakness.

Strength looked like distance from pain.

What is

Then the narrative shifted.

Strength became about feeling everything.
Sitting in the pain.
Letting it all surface.
Staying with the emotion no matter how heavy it felt.

And that mattered.
Because avoiding pain doesn’t make it disappear. It only makes it worse.

But for many, this became another trap—staying in the feeling without knowing how to move forward. Pain was honored, but not integrated. Acknowledged, but not transformed.

The bridge

What if strength isn’t one or the other - but both?

What if the ultimate strength is the ability to hold both?

To allow yourself to feel the pain—fully, honestly, without judgment.
To acknowledge it.
To understand what it’s telling you.

And then—and only then—to move forward intentionally.

Strength isn’t denying pain, and it isn’t drowning in it.
It’s allowing pain to exist as one truth, without letting it define the entire picture.

Pain doesn’t disappear.
It becomes part of you.

Strength is not about making pain nonexistent.
It’s about making space for it—while still choosing to live, grow, and create new experiences.

Crying doesn’t mean something is wrong with you.
Feeling doesn’t mean you’re broken.
Pain isn’t a flaw—it’s a human truth.

Real strength is letting yourself be human.

Feeling what’s real.
Honoring it.
And then choosing, with intention, how you move forward—carrying the pain with you, not as a weight, but as part of your story.

That’s not weakness.
That’s strength that’s lived, not performed.