Redefining Strength: Why Doing It All Alone Isn't the Answer
"Being vulnerable is not a sign of weakness. It's a sign that you're strong enough to care." ~ Unknown
What if everything you believed about being strong was actually making you weaker?
There's a video of me aged 3, marching into shot and declaring proudly, "Look, Daddy, I did it all by myself!" This moment, now a standing joke in my family, perfectly captured what would become the essence of my personality – and a limiting belief I carried for decades.
The Armour We Create
"I did it all by myself" became my mantra, my shield, my definition of strength. Growing up in a military family, constantly moving, and heading off to boarding school at the tender age of 8, I learned early to rely solely on myself. I thought if I didn't need anyone, no one could hurt me.
I packed away my vulnerability and fragility because I couldn't tolerate what I saw as weaknesses. I built my armour piece by piece, believing it made me stronger. But what I didn't realise was how heavy it would become, how much it would cut me off from myself and from the world around me.
The Weight of False Strength
The problem is this type of strength is brittle and rigid. This 'strength' tells me that the only way to be successful is to do it all by myself. That needing someone else means I'm not good enough. That I'm a failure if I ask for help.
I told myself I had to be self-sufficient and self-reliant and never depend on anyone. It's made it really hard for me to know, let alone articulate, my needs to others because somehow having needs made me weak.
> "I used to think independence meant doing everything alone. Now I know true strength lies in knowing when to reach for support."
A New Definition of Strength
The shift came when I realised that my armour, meant to protect me, had become a prison. Every time I refused help or hid my struggles, I wasn't showing strength – I was reinforcing the walls of my isolation. True resilience wasn't about being impenetrable; it was about having the courage to be seen.
I'm defining a new version of strength.
This version is softer and kinder but even more powerful. It's flexible and adaptable while never losing its shape.
Like a spider's web - each strand appears delicate, yet together they create one of nature's strongest structures. The web's strength comes not from rigidity but from its ability to flex and adapt, to rebuild and repair. Just as the web catches both prey and morning dew, this kind of strength can hold both power and tenderness.
This kind of strength recognises that vulnerability isn't a weakness. It's a choice to be open to connection and invite people into my world.
It means I'm resilient enough to admit my needs and ask for support. Even if my need isn't met by someone else, simply showing up for myself enough to ask feels better than never asking in the first place.
Moving Forward, Gently
Like me, you might not even realise you're wearing armour. The first step is noticing it's there.
I don't recommend trying to ditch it straight away. Your poor nervous system will freak out because it won't feel safe.
But with time, tools and practice, you can learn ways to put it down. Here are some ways to begin:
Start with journaling about your needs - what do you automatically handle alone? What would you like support with?
Practice vulnerability in low-stakes situations first - maybe tell a friend when you're having a rough day
Notice when you automatically say "I'm fine" and pause to check if that's true
Choose one small way each week to let someone in or ask for support
Take it slowly, one piece of armour at a time, revealing a stronger, more connected version of yourself.
Reflection Questions
What piece of armour are you ready to set down?
What would become possible if you allowed yourself to be vulnerable?
How might your relationships change if you let people see the real you?
What strength might you discover in your vulnerability?
I won't tell you it's easy – transforming your relationship with strength and vulnerability is some of the bravest work you'll ever do. But I can tell you it's worth it. Every time I choose to be seen, to ask for what I need, to let someone in, I feel more whole, more connected, more truly strong.
Ready to explore your relationship with strength and vulnerability? Let's connect.