You Don’t Have to Be So Damn Strong All the Time

“Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing we’ll ever do.” — Brené Brown

Tonight, I had a panic attack in martial arts class.

Sweating. Shaking. Breathless. The room spun. I had to sit down while everyone looked on, asking if I was okay. I wasn’t. And I was embarrassed.

I know my clients read this blog. I know vulnerability is a risk. But I also know it’s necessary. The therapists I’ve admired—John Bradshaw, Harville Hendrix, John Gottman, Gabor Maté, Brené Brown—don’t just teach healing. They live it. They share it. Raw. Real. Unfiltered.

So here’s my truth: I was pissed off at myself. That old voice crept in—“Why couldn’t I just breathe through it?” I didn’t want to explain. Didn’t want to share. Not with the instructors. Not with anyone. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? We walk around terrified of vulnerability. And sometimes, that fear is warranted. People can be cruel. Judgmental. Dismissive. 

But here’s what I’ve learned: cruelty is a reflection of someone else’s woundedness. Period. 

What happened tonight wasn’t just a panic attack. It was a flashback. One of the instructors suggested yelling to make our punches stronger—and suddenly, I was 17 again. Back at the moment I have worked so hard to heal. A moment I never talked about for years. I buried it. Excelled in spite of it. But trauma doesn’t stay buried. It leaks. Until it erupts. I also felt bad, because I think the instructor felt like he had done something wrong (poor guy), he had been working us pretty hard to get ready for our belt test.  But, I couldn't breathe and explain what was happening at the same time. It really sucked. 

Thankfully, we know more about trauma now than we did 30 years ago. The options for healing are astounding. And that’s why I choose to be vulnerably honest—because I want people to know they don’t have to suffer in silence. Healing is possible.

Triggers don’t always disappear. They soften. They fade. But when they resurface, it’s easy to feel like you’re going backwards. I felt that tonight. I was scared.

So I called my best friend. She yelled at me for driving (fair), and I pulled over in a McDonald’s parking lot. She listened. She said, “Stand back and look at this for a minute. You’ve started a business. You worked really hard to get published this year.  You’ve started martial arts. You’ve launched your adult kids out of state. I'm exhausted just listing it all..... I think it’s okay to have one night of panic. One night of not appearing to have your shit together--I think people will get it.  It just means you are human. I love you—but you don’t have to be so damn strong all the time.”  

That hit me.

Because don’t we all do that? Hide our vulnerabilities. Our stories. Our pain. I hear it every day from clients—heartbreak, divorce, abuse, crumbling marriages, infidelity. But something shifts when someone shares their pain. The light starts to return to their face. They feel human again. 

That’s why I share mine.

I’ll go back to martial arts on Monday. I’ll go back to seeing clients. But I want to tell you something: you don’t have to be strong all the time. Life is hard. Unfair. We didn’t ask for the breaking. And yet, we’re left to heal what someone else caused. That’s infuriating. But you, my friend, are strong.

And here’s something else I’ve realized: healing doesn’t just happen in therapy rooms. It happens in movement, in connection, in moments where we reclaim our bodies and our voices. It happens when we speak our truth.

Because healing can only happen when we speak our truth.

There is power in naming what hurt us. In saying out loud what we’ve carried in silence. In letting someone witness our pain without trying to fix it. That’s when the shame starts to loosen. That’s when the healing begins.

Martial arts has been a corrective experience for me. Not because I’m trying to be tough, but because every punch, every kick says: I’m here. I’m strong. 

For women especially, this kind of reclamation matters. One in three women will experience assault or intimate partner violence in their lifetime. That statistic isn’t just heartbreaking—it’s infuriating. And it’s why I believe women need spaces where they can punch some bags, feel their power, and know they’re not alone.

But healing doesn’t have to look like martial arts. It can be a walk in nature. A quiet meditation. A deep conversation with a safe friend. It can be crying in a McDonald’s parking lot while someone reminds you that you don’t have to be so damn strong all the time.

Corrective experiences come in many forms. They’re the moments that rewrite the story. That remind us we’re not broken—we’re human. That vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s courage.

So, if the flashbacks return—don’t panic about the panic. Don’t shame yourself for the fear. Instead, ask: what do I need right now? A friend? A forest? A punching bag? A moment of truth?

You don’t have to be so damn strong all the time. But you do deserve spaces that help you feel strong again.