There is something dangerous about becoming good at surviving.

People start believing you can handle anything.

Eventually, you start believing it too.

By then, I had proof that I could figure things out.

I had survived relationships that should have broken me. I had raised a child while trying to figure out who I was myself. I had gone back to school. I had learned how to stretch money, solve problems, make decisions and keep moving when stopping wasn’t really an option.

Every difficult thing I survived added another little piece to the identity I was building.

I can handle it.

At first, those words empowered me.

They meant I wasn’t helpless.

I wasn’t trapped.

I didn’t need someone else to rescue me.

After everything I’d been through, there was something incredibly powerful about knowing I could take care of myself.

But somewhere along the way, I can handle it quietly became something else.

It became:

I’ll handle it.

The problem.

The crisis.

The person who needed help.

The thing nobody else wanted to deal with.

Give it to me.

I’ll figure it out.

And because I usually did, nobody—including me—stopped to wonder what all that handling was costing me.

I became dependable.

Capable.

Strong.

The person you called when something went wrong.

And I liked that version of myself.

Maybe I needed her.

After spending years feeling like my life belonged to circumstances and other people, being capable felt like freedom.

What I didn’t understand yet was that strength without boundaries can become another kind of prison.

Because once you’ve convinced everyone you can carry anything…

they’ll keep handing you things.

And if you’ve built your identity around being the one who can handle it?

You’ll keep taking them.

It would take me years to understand that being capable didn’t mean I was responsible for everything.

And even longer to understand that asking for help didn’t make me weak.

I didn’t know any of that then.

Back then, I was simply proud of the woman who could handle it.

I had no idea how tired she would eventually become

If you’re reading this…

Maybe you’re the one everyone counts on too.

The strong one.

The fixer.

The one who says, “It’s okay. I’ve got it.”

Just remember:

Being capable of carrying something doesn’t automatically mean it’s yours to carry.

Love,
Nova Leigh