There’s a certain kind of quiet that follows you when you’ve spent most of your life trying not to take up too much space.
When you’ve learned to be “strong”, because falling apart wasn’t an option.
When you’ve smiled through pain because it was easier than explaining it.
People see the put-together version“You’re so strong,” they say.
But they don’t see the nights you cry in the shower so no one hears.
Or the days you get up, go to work, help others, even though you’re running on fumes.
This blog is for that version of you and me.
The way you hold it together at work but collapses into bed with dishes still in the sink.
The way you joke around in public but gets overwhelmed by the smallest task at home.
The way you are trying, healing, surviving and sometimes just existing.
If you’ve ever had to wear a mask just to get through the day
You’re not alone.
Let’s talk about it.
