For so long, I thought strength was resilience—the ability to push through pain, losses, and battles without pause. I wore it as a badge of honor, believing that my capacity to keep moving forward, no matter the cost, was what made me strong. But in that cycle, I realized something: I wasn’t breathing.
I mean that literally and figuratively. In boxing sessions, in challenging moments, in anything that demanded resilience, I held my breath. I was coping, surviving, and keeping walls high to shield myself. I thought that’s what strength was—endurance. But true strength, I’ve learned, is something else entirely.
Strength is letting those walls come down. It’s daring to be vulnerable, to sit with your emotions and express them, even when the world around you demands you wear a mask. It’s saying, “I’m not going to adapt to what’s expected; this is how I feel.” That takes courage.
Your emotions aren’t who you are, but they are a compass, pointing you to what matters most. If you ignore them, you’re only delaying the inevitable journey inward. And breathing—physically resetting and emotionally releasing—is the key to starting that journey.
Strength doesn’t always mean surviving one storm after another. Sometimes, it’s in the pause, the breath, and the openness to let life touch you deeply.
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