Hey family,
How long have you been holding it together?
I mean really. How many years have you been the strong one? The one who doesn't cry. The one who handles it. The one who keeps their armor on because the world taught you that soft equals weak?
Let me tell you something that might surprise you: Your strength is costing you your softness. And your softness is where your healing lives.
I see this all the time, people who've survived so much that they don't know how to stop surviving. They've been strong for so long that they've forgotten it's okay to be tender. To admit they're tired. To say "I'm not okay" out loud.
Somewhere along the way, many of us learned that vulnerability is dangerous. And maybe it was, in certain seasons, with certain people, survival mode kept us alive. But here's what I need you to know: What protected you then might be isolating you now.
Jesus wept. The God of the universe, in human flesh, cried in front of people (John 11:35). He didn't hide His grief. He didn't perform strength. He let Himself be seen in His sorrow.
If Jesus could be vulnerable, why do we think we have to be bulletproof?
Vulnerability isn't weakness, it's wisdom. It's knowing that we weren't created to carry everything alone. It's trusting that there are safe people and safe spaces where we can take the armor off and just... breathe.
Reflection Prompts for This Week:
1. What did you learn about showing emotion or being vulnerable growing up? (Was it safe? Punished? Ignored? Weaponized?)
2. Who are the safe people in your life right nowā€”people who've earned the right to see you soft? (If you can't name anyone, that's important information too.)
3. What would it feel like to let one person see the real weight you're carrying? (Just imagine it. Notice what comes up, fear, relief, resistance, longing?)
Here's your permission slip for this week: You don't have to be strong everywhere, with everyone, all the time.
Find your safe people. The ones who won't rush your pain or shame your tears. The ones who can hold space for your humanity without trying to fix you.
And then? Let yourself be seen. Not the edited version. Not the "I'm fine" version. The real, tender, tired, hopeful, messy, beautiful version.
That's where connection lives. That's where healing happens. That's where God meets us, in our honesty, not our performance.
It's safe to be soft with the right people. And you deserve that kind of safety.
With gentleness and grace,
Dr. E
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