You keep going.
You hold it together.
You don’t complain.
You power through.
People call you strong.
Reliable.
Solid.
But no one sees what you’ve swallowed to stay that way.
There’s a thin line.
Resilience is built.
Suppression is buried.
Resilience says:
This hurts, but I’ll carry it and feel it.
Suppression says:
This hurts, but I won’t let it show.
Resilience breathes through pain.
Suppression holds its breath.
Resilience bends.
Suppression locks.
Resilience is the ability to return to yourself.
Suppression is the decision to avoid yourself.
You say:
- “It’s not a big deal.”
- “I’m used to it.”
- “I don’t want to talk about it.”
And maybe that’s true.
But ask:
- Am I strong — or just silent?
- Am I coping — or carrying wounds like medals?
- Am I protecting others from my pain — or protecting myself from my own truth?
There’s power in resilience.
But there’s danger when your strength becomes a disguise.
When your silence becomes your identity.
When the world applauds your composure…
and forgets to ask if you’re okay.
This is the Cushy way.
Strength that feels.
Fortitude with softness.
Courage that includes crying.
You can be resilient
and still need to rest.
You can be solid
and still be seen.
