The Quiet Weight So Many Women Carry
There comes a point when “holding it together” starts to feel less like strength and more like survival.
You answer the texts.
You make the meals.
You show up for work.
You care for everyone else.
You keep moving.
And somewhere underneath all of it is a quiet whisper:
I’m tired.
Not dramatic tired.
Not “I need a nap” tired.
Soul tired.
Bone-deep tired.
The kind that settles quietly into your chest after years of carrying things nobody else fully sees.
In a recent episode of At the Counter with the Baking Pastor, I sat down with Heidi Blackie to talk about what happens when the strong one finally reaches their limit.
And honestly?
I think a lot of women will recognize themselves in this conversation.
“I Was Falling Apart… But I Had to Be Strong”
Heidi shared what it was like caring for her mother during the final months of her life while privately unraveling inside.
“It was this feeling like you just swallow it and you hold it.”
That line stayed with me.
Because so many women learned early that strength meant:
- Don’t cry too much.
- Don’t burden anyone.
- Keep functioning.
- Keep showing up.
- Keep carrying it.
Especially for Gen X women, many of us were raised in homes where emotions were tucked away like winter clothes in an attic trunk. Functional. Quiet. Hidden.
But buried emotions don’t disappear.
They simply wait.
Sometimes they show up as exhaustion.
Sometimes anxiety.
Sometimes resentment.
Sometimes chronic illness.
Sometimes a strange numbness where joy used to live.
Chronic Illness, Grief, and the Invisible Battles People Don’t See
One of the most powerful parts of the conversation was Heidi describing life with chronic illness.
From the outside, she looked “fine.”
Inside, her body was fighting battles nobody could see.
She described years of pushing through exhaustion, illness, grief, and loss until eventually her world became smaller and smaller.
And isn’t that true for grief too?
Not all grief wears black clothing and stands beside a casket.
Sometimes grief looks like:
- the child you never got to have,
- the marriage that changed,
- the diagnosis nobody understands,
- the dog whose absence still echoes through the house,
- the version of yourself you miss.
There’s a kind of loneliness that comes when your pain isn’t visible enough for the world to validate.
“We’re a Whole Beach”
At one point in the conversation, Heidi shared a metaphor I haven’t stopped thinking about since.
“We’re a whole beach, and that sadness is one grain of sand.”
What a gentle picture.
The sadness matters.
The grief matters.
The exhaustion matters.
But it is not the entirety of you.
There are still other grains:
- love,
- beauty,
- friendships,
- faith,
- laughter,
- pets curled beside you,
- warm coffee in your hands,
- sunsets,
- small mercies,
- hope quietly breathing under the rubble.
The goal isn’t pretending sadness doesn’t exist.
The goal is remembering it doesn’t get to narrate the entire shoreline.
Gratitude Isn’t Toxic Positivity
One thing both Heidi and I talked about was gratitude.
Not performative gratitude.
Not “good vibes only.”
Not pretending hard things aren’t hard.
Real gratitude.
The kind that says:
“Today was painful… but I’m thankful for hot coffee.”
“I’m exhausted… but I’m grateful my body is still fighting.”
“I’m grieving… but I’m grateful for the years I had.”
When I walked through breast cancer, there were days my gratitude journal held only one sentence:
Thank you for my body fighting cancer today.
That counted.
Tiny gratitude still counts.
Sometimes gratitude is less like fireworks and more like a candle in a dark kitchen at 2 a.m.
Small.
Quiet.
Still enough light to keep going.
You Do Not Have to Earn Rest
Maybe the most important thing from this conversation is this:
You do not have to collapse completely before you’re allowed to rest.
You are allowed to:
- set boundaries,
- say no,
- ask for help,
- disappoint expectations,
- move slower,
- grieve honestly,
- stop performing strength.
As Heidi said:
“The only way to get through it is to go through it.”
Not around it.
Not beneath it.
Not numbed out from it.
Through it.
Gently.
Honestly.
One breath at a time.
If you’ve been carrying too much for too long, maybe this is your reminder:
You are not failing because you’re tired.
You are human.
And maybe today, instead of trying harder, fixing faster, or proving your strength…
you simply pull up a chair.
The counter is open. ☕
Listen to the Full Episode
You can listen to the full conversation with Heidi Blackie on At the Counter with the Baking Pastor wherever you listen to podcasts.
You can also learn more about Heidi’s work at https://www.unshakableme.com and her YouTube channel https://www.youtube.com/@UnshakableMe