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Was Supposed to Be Strong: The Day I Almost Gave Up
Insight
4 hrs ago
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4 hrs agoPart 1:
I don’t remember the exact day my chest got too heavy to breathe — but I remember the feeling:
A man, sitting alone in a silent room, phone full of contacts but no one to call.
Family counting on me.
Debt breathing down my neck.
A marriage losing colour.
And me… losing myself.
They taught us that men must always be strong.
That crying is weakness.
That silence is dignity.
But nobody warned us what it feels like when the silence becomes so loud it deafens you.
One night, staring at my reflection, I whispered, “I’m tired.”
Not tired of work.
Tired of pretending.
Tired of carrying everyone’s weight and calling it love.
Tired of lying that I’m fine when my soul feels bruised.
I thought about ending it.
Not because I wanted to die — but because I couldn’t see the point of living in pain that never ends.
But something stopped me:
A small, stubborn voice that said, “This can’t be the end. Your story isn’t finished yet.”
Why I’m sharing this:
Because maybe you’re like me — strong on the outside, shattered on the inside.
Maybe you smile in the morning but battle demons at night.
If this is you, know this:
Even broken stories can become beautiful chapters.
This is Part 1 of my truth.
The man I was.
The pain I hid.
And the day I almost gave up.
But I didn’t.