I’ve learned something about myself lately. When the storms come, I isolate.
When things get heavy, my first instinct is to disappear. To shut the door, quiet my phone, pull away, and convince myself that I can handle it on my own.
Because somewhere along the way, I learned that I had to.
I’ve carried things by myself for so long that I don’t really know how to share the burden anymore. Honestly, sometimes I don’t even know what that looks like.
I know how to say, “I’m okay.”
I know how to smile when I’m not.
I know how to show up for everyone else while quietly falling apart inside.
But asking someone to show up for me?
That feels foreign.
My feelings and problems sometimes feel like grenades.
And I’ve spent so much of my life being willing to jump on the grenade every single time, just so nobody else has to bear the explosion.
I'll take the hurt.
I'll carry the weight.
I'll deal with the mess.
Just don't let it hurt anyone else.
But lately, I’ve been asking myself…
What if I don’t have to do that anymore?
What if letting someone help me doesn’t make me a burden?
What if sharing my pain doesn’t mean I’m dumping it on someone else?
What if being vulnerable isn’t weakness?
Maybe I’ve confused being strong with being alone.
Maybe strength isn't always carrying everything yourself.
Maybe sometimes strength looks like saying,
“I’m struggling. Can you sit with me for a minute?”
Not fix it.
Not make it disappear.
Just sit with me.
I’m learning that I don’t have to protect everyone from every piece of my pain.
I’m learning that the people who love me deserve the opportunity to love all of me—not just the version that has everything together.
And maybe I deserve that too.
So, when the next storm comes, I’m going to try something different.
Instead of disappearing…
I’m going to try reaching out.
Even if my hands shake.
Even if I don’t know what to say.
Even if all I can manage is,
“Hey… I’m having a really hard time right now.”
Because maybe I was never meant to carry every grenade alone.
Maybe I was meant to let someone stand beside me while the storm passes.
And maybe…
I’m finally learning that I don’t have to be the one who takes the blast every time.
Samantha Jefferson
