We’ve been told a myth that strength means never breaking. To be worthy, especially in moments of crisis or care, we must hold everything together, smile through pain, and carry the weight without complaint.
But strength and resilience are not the same. And confusing the two is costing us our mental health.
Strength says: endure. Resilience says: evolve.
Strength is often praised as the ultimate virtue. You push through. You don’t complain. You wear the mask. You lift more than you should — emotionally, mentally, physically — because that’s what strong people do. And when you crack under pressure, you feel shame. As though breaking makes you broken.
But resilience isn’t about not breaking. It’s about knowing how to bend without losing yourself.
Where strength demands silence, resilience permits you to speak up. Where strength isolates, resilience reaches out. Where strength tells you to keep going no matter what, resilience teaches you when to pause, replenish, and reset.
Mental health needs resilience, not just strength, and this is especially urgent during Mental Health Awareness Month. In families, in front line roles, in communities, we celebrate people — especially women and caregivers — for being strong. But rarely do we ask what it’s costing them.
We see the smiling parents at drop-off, the team lead always staying late, and the elderly carrying burdens without rest. What we don’t always see is the exhaustion, the self-doubt, the quiet moments of unravelling when no one’s watching.
Being strong becomes a role, not a reality. But resilience? Resilience takes practise. A mindset. A lifeline. Resilience says:
“I need rest and that’s not weakness.”
“I can ask for help and still be capable.”
“I’ve been through hard things, and I have learned how to come back stronger, softer, wiser.”
We need to move from “holding it together” to “holding yourself with care.” The truth is, holding it all together doesn’t mean you’re okay. It just means you’ve become very skilled at surviving. And survival is not the same as wellness.
If you're always pushing, always enduring, ask yourself: Have I made space to be resilient? Have I allowed myself to breathe, bend, shift, or ask for support without guilt?
This month, permit yourself to move beyond endurance. Reclaim the gentler path, where you’re not just surviving, but recalibrating, recovering, and growing. A resilient life doesn’t fear breaking. It knows that breaking open can be the beginning of healing.
