In every family, someone gets labeled “the strong one.”
Not because they’re the loudest.
Not because they ask for it.
But because they carry the weight nobody else wants to bear.
In our family, being “strong” meant I got less.
Less praise. Less support. Less space to be human.
And yet, I was the one expected to give more.
Work more. Fix more. Care more. Smile more.
Carrying the Family Quietly
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