Based in Barrie (and Windsor), Ontario, Catherine Chouinard is an adventurous Rambler with a passion for travel, running, and embracing new challenges—including recently completing several half marathons. When she's not working in the auto industry or spending time with her two grown children, you'll often find her transforming furniture or tackling her latest home décor project.
The other day, I was having a heart-to-heart with someone I care about. We were talking about another person in our lives who wasn't doing well emotionally, and the conversation naturally turned to mental health and how we support the people around us.
As we talked, he said something that made me feel both proud and a little taken aback.
He told me that, of the people in our little circle, he thought I was the strongest.
His words stayed with me long after the conversation ended.
On one hand, I liked being seen as the strong one. But on the other, I wasn't sure it was true—or at least not something I had chosen to be. I think life has simply forced me into that role, especially within my family.
As I reflected on those words, I started thinking about my friendships and family relationships.
I've often been the one who reaches out first—the one sending the "How are you doing?" or "Are you okay?" text. Somewhere along the way, I noticed that those messages didn't often come back my way.
For a long time, I took that personally. I wondered if I cared more than other people did. During COVID, I remember checking in on friends and family who were isolating. At one point I stopped reaching out, partly because I was curious what would happen. The silence hurt.
Looking back, though, I see it a little differently.
I don't think the people in my life cared any less. I think they had simply come to see me as someone who was always okay. I had become so good at being the one who offered support that I never showed anyone I might need it too.
So when I was told I was "the strong one," it made me ask myself a different question:
What is the cost of being strong?
I think the cost is that people assume you're okay. They assume you don't need anyone checking in on you because you've always got everything under control.
You become the person who holds space for everyone else, while no one realizes you might need someone to hold space for you.
Over time, that can become lonely. It can quietly build resentment. You begin to feel unseen.
Not because the people in your life are uncaring or thoughtless, but because you've become so good at carrying everything yourself that you've unintentionally convinced everyone else that you don't need help.
Being the strong one can also blur your own emotional awareness. You become so practiced at reading everyone else's feelings that you stop checking in with your own. You push your emotions aside because there's always someone who "needs it more." You tell yourself you'll deal with it later.
But later has a way of never arriving.
The irony is that while you're busy caring for everyone else, no one is caring for you—not because they don't want to, but because they don't know you need them.
I'm beginning to realize that real strength isn't pretending I'm okay all the time. Real strength is allowing myself to be known. It's being able to say, "I'm not okay today," even though that feels unfamiliar and deeply uncomfortable.
Because if you never step out of the role of "the strong one," no one ever learns how to meet you anywhere else.
Maybe that's the lesson I'm still learning. Maybe asking for help isn't a weakness at all. Maybe it's trust. Maybe the people who have leaned on me for years would actually welcome the opportunity to be there for me.
And maybe—just maybe—I wouldn't be the burden I've convinced myself I would be.
Strength isn't only about carrying others. Sometimes, it's having the courage to let someone carry you for a while.
READ MORE: Her Story, Ramblers Cafe.
I’m also made out to be the strong one,I’m a carer for my husband who has mental health ,anxiety and panic attacks,I look after him on my own,life never used to be like this we would go on holidays weekend drives just loving life,he was my rock,he has also lost his speech so communication is hard.people say you should still do things but I feel guilty leaving him ,at times I feel so lonely,people always ask how is your husband,no one ever says how are you coping,how are you? We have been married for twenty nine years twenty five of those years were wonderful,I just keep hoping things will get better one day,thanks for listening.
I can relate to your words,being tough, carrying a load that sometimes feels too heavy, yet proud enough to not ask for help; while those around us see us a tough, well put together to handle every crisis, efficiently. Yet deep in your soul, you are screaming, " Who is there to carry me? Have I self sabotaged myself by being always the one?"
I too carry such burdens, silently, willingly, while others around me relinquish their cares to me." The tough one". I have no tribe,I joined Sole Sisters, like yourself to create my safety net….who , one day should the that moment arrive when I need help and hope they will catch me collectively.
I’ve just discovered this group and made my request to join. Looking through the website I came across Catherine Chouinard’s story and was immediately touched by what she wrote. I feel exactly the same as she does. Not having many who simply call me to ask how I am doing hurts a lot. But seeing this other point of view is making me think about it differently. Thanks for sharing this. I need to reflect and figure out how to ask for the caring.
Your words reached me. Beautifully written. And soon I am going to be that person that has to reach out, and it’s so hard. Or maybe it won’t be? Maybe it will just be different from being the self reliant one. Maybe others will be glad to be there. Thank you for writing about this. After all our vulnerability is what makes us beautifully human.
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