Official Resignation from Being the Strong One

To Whom It May Concern,

Please accept this as my official resignation.

I am leaving my long-held, unpaid, emotionally draining role as The Strong One effective immediately. As you know, I am the one who holds it together. The person who always says yes. The person who continuously keeps things playful and enjoyable for everyone else and fills in awkward silences during family dinners with lighthearted jokes and a silly story. The person who says, "Don't worry about me, I'm fine," even though I'm three emotional collapses away from making the local news.

Yes, that one. I'm leaving.

I never applied for this job. No interview took place. No benefits package. No annual reviews (unless you include the odd condescending remark like "You're so strong" or "I don't know how you do it," which are simply courteous ways of saying "I'm glad it's you and not me").

I had no choice but to take the job. Quiet, sacred, and suffocating, the role was inherited like a family heirloom. Perhaps it began the day I broke up my parents' argument in the kitchen. At a funeral, for example, I swallowed my grief whole because someone had to keep it together. Or when I kept a smile on my face during a breakup to spare my friends the trouble of my heartache. I can't recall when it began. However, I am aware that it is now over.

Effective immediately.

Think of this as my official resignation with no notice, no exit interview. I will not be going to the daily martyrdom meetings. I won't be the person everyone calls in case of an emergency. While everyone else's mess is being lifted by me, mine will no longer be rotting away in some forgotten hole.

I'm finished.

I'm done answering all of the late-night "you up?" texts that pretend to be casual check-ins but are therapy sessions they forgot to schedule and expect me to provide for free. I am no longer on call 24 hours a day. I'm finished being in charge of everyone else's crises while my own patiently waits its turn. Surprise, surprise, my turn never comes.

I'm done laughing at insults that are disguised as jokes. I'm finished breathing deeply rather than speaking. I've finished selecting "yes" by default since it's simpler than explaining why I am saying no. Just so you know, it was never simple. It always weighed heavily on me.

And before anyone begins to try and change my mind, I want to make it perfectly clear that your "But we need you," "You're so good at it," or "It won't be the same without you" won't make any difference to me.  I don't care.

You never checked on me to see if I was drowning. You never stopped to consider what it costs to be strong all the time. You never asked why someone would prefer to remain silent at the outer edges of the group rather than acknowledge that they're worn out from keeping up the front.

Therefore, no, this cannot be negotiated. This isn't one of those posts that go viral in which I make a threat to quit and then decide to stay. This isn't a theatrical resignation masquerading as a cry for assistance.

I am liberating myself.

I'm taking back my time. My tenderness. My clumsy, cumbersome, and exaggerated feelings. My ability to refuse without providing a reason.

From now on:

I won't come if I don't want to.

I'll let you know if I'm not feeling well.

I'll point it out if I feel ignored.

You'll find out if I'm harmed.

And don't expect the carefully manicured, Instagram-captioned version of my response when you ask how I'm doing.

If I have to cry, I will.

When I feel small, I will occupy space.

I'll be gregarious, sensitive, irritable, and complex.

I'll be a human.

Additionally, you'll need to develop coping mechanisms.

I no longer have to bear that burden.

I understand that some of you are asking yourself, "But what if people don't rely on you anymore? What happens if they withdraw"?

Brilliant is what I say.

Relationships based on imbalance don't appeal to me. Those relationships can fall apart like cheap paper in the rain if my value was derived from my yeses, my silence, or my capacity to put others' comfort ahead of my own. For precisely one depressing playlist, I will grieve for them before moving on. I no longer have to bear that burden.

I understand that some of you are asking yourself, "But what if people don't rely on you anymore? What happens if they withdraw? Brilliant is what I say.

People check in because they care, not because they need something. I want friends who are willing to put up with the ugly things rather than fix them right away. Places where saying "no" is a boundary rather than a betrayal. Where being tender is viewed as evidence of your survival rather than weakness. So, think of this as The Strong One's final tour.

There won't be a season of comeback.

There was nothing special about the reunion.

Not a single sentimental tweet about "the good old days when you could always count on me." You will be alright. You always were.

How about me? Finally, I'll be able to be a complete, contradictory, messy, and beautifully flawed person over here. It's about damn time.

Regards, 

Roxanne Donaghy

(formerly known as) The Strong One.