“Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they’re never weaknesses.”
– Brené Brown

Last week, I was told by my coworker that I am “dependable no matter what”. We were having a horrible day, but we were doing the best we could with our limited budget. We work with children from low-income families, so it’s especially difficult when we can’t afford to take trips, the weather ruins our plans, and, honestly, the entire day just sucked. I smiled as the comment was kind and part of me was proud that someone had put their trust in me.

What she did not realize was the fact that I was exhausted and anxious since I had to listen to painful experiences that afternoon that made our day “difficult.” Yet while something within me was pleading to take a break, I had remained focused.

When an individual perseveres in the face of challenging situations, people tend to refer to the person as “strong”. Initially, the description is comforting as it implies bravery, adulthood and dependability. Strength, however, with time can be a part of a role that other people expect you to always adhere to. Therefore, it may seem disappointing to them to realize that you are not coping well once they think that you are capable of doing it.

The pressure feels greater whilst studying social work since the profession demands us to be present when we are involved in painful conversations. Clients can discuss grief, trauma, poverty, violence, family conflict or systems that have failed them over and over again. They require listening and emotional protection especially when they are in an environment that seems to be unstable. Being able to compose yourself is important, but it’s equally important to remember you’re not emotionally invulnerable.

I am able to maintain proper boundaries and still be left feeling sad, angry, helpless or upset at the end of an interaction. However, I do not feel those reactions make me unprepared to practice or unable to assist another human being. They help me to remember that I am a human being and I am influenced by the realities I see. Nevertheless, I question whether being able to confess that the work is heavy makes me less competent than someone who doesn’t express those feelings.

This pressure is more difficult when you have to be responsible in many different aspects of life. As I tend to deal with what other people throw at me and stay calm, friends and family might think that I am coping very well. But I feel that this strength may eventually become not so much of a personal attribute but a performance for others.

On one of the most challenging days, my supervisor had a matter of urgency and went home early leaving me fully in charge. That left me the responsibility of confronting a parent about child abuse allegations that their children had mentioned earlier in the day. Externally, I  composed myself and assured all the staff that I would be fine. Soon after, I stepped away from the kids when I received a call from my doctor saying they needed to move my appointment up because the doctor needs to talk to me sooner. No other information allowed to be given over the phone. I hung up and began to cry until a coworker saw me. Side note: there’s absolutely no privacy when you work with children because no locked doors are allowed! Anyway, I immediately dried my tears and continued doing my job.

I did not say a word since I thought responsible individuals ought to decrease the pressure on others, not increase it.

The experience demonstrated to me how pain can be concealed easily even to those who care. It also left me wondering why it is that seeking support may be more terrifying than preserving our image and being overburdened. It leaves me with the question: What are we protecting when we make sure that no one notices when we are in trouble? We may be guarding an image of ourselves which has become unsustainable.

Unspoken stresses do not fade away since I continue tasks and meet expectations. It tends to manifest itself as fatigue, loss of patience, inability to concentrate and being unable to be around others. Even small tasks may be burdensome after a number of stressful days. I can end up being silent among friends, forgetful of what I’ve been reading or even repeating conversations in my head whilst I should be sleeping.

At one point, I wanted to inform my supervisor that I was emotionally overwhelmed. However, I was reluctant to do so; I was scared of being perceived as unprepared and felt that seeking assistance would result in their loss of trust in me. So I kept working, ignoring what I felt.

I have started to learn that the meaning of strength is self-understanding and not silent suffering. Because a healthy strength entails limits, rest, contemplation, and the bravery to seek assistance before stress turns unhealthy.

However this understanding doesn’t mean that change comes quickly. I’m starting slow. I’m now prioritizing journaling and rest in order to help me process feelings that cannot be resolved at the moment. These practices do not minimize my responsibility or erase hard experiences. Instead, they assist me to return with more patience, clarity and emotional stability. Self-care is responsible practice; it influences the way I listen and react.

Perhaps strength is not the power to tote everything without feeling the strain. Perhaps it is realizing that the weight is too heavy and that multiple people can bear it when they work together. Professionalism and vulnerability can co-exist with emotions managed in a wise and reasonable manner. This lens helps my brain understand that assistance is not a sign of failure, but actually a responsible action.

I hear both praise and a warning when I recall that my coworker referred to me as dependable. I cherish the trait of reliability and I would like to be perceived as being stable when times are hard. But reliability must not entail self-abandonment or hiding one’s emotional pain. Awareness of our limitations can help us to make care more sustainable, authentic, and caring. There are times when the wisest thing that we can do is to admit that we were not meant to do it all by ourselves.