How You Doin’ Sis?: Checking In On the Strong Friend

Not a real conversation, but you knew that?

We all know et love that one homie. The one that’s emotionally got it all together.

They never crack under pressure or spiral under stress. They act as the human unifier of the group, et when they treated themselves to an OG Louis Vuitton Graceful MM, you were certain they must be, at least mostly, handling their life with what seems like ease.

What if I told you that said homie is, in fact, lowkey spiralling, stress-starving, et that LV bag was just a much-needed dopamine hit after rewatching their favourite movie over et over stopped providing the same high?

Perhaps you’re reading this thinking: I know that homie well. She is me et I am her. To that, I say: “heeey twin!!”

Pull up a chair et take a seat at the strong friend table, where vulnerability is highly encouraged (for others), et asking for help is a mortal sin.

I’ve been the strong friend for as long as I’ve been an active participant in the squid game that is human interaction et community building. It’s exhausting, but you convince yourself it isn’t that bad because:

A) At least everyone else is cared for.

B) At least they won’t have to worry.

C) At least when they say they can’t help, I won’t be disappointed.

D) All of the above.

In the end, at least the people you love have someone in their corner.

But aren’t you a people they love?

A strong friend in her natural habitat: hiding from vulnerability, but still showing up et showing out for the homie.

The thing about being the “strong friend” is that it’s rarely asked of us. Et if it was, that’s sus. No good friend is going to want you to suffer in silence.

This is going to shock my hyper-independent girlies, so I’m going to need you to sit down, but—your friends, your compadres, your ride-or-dies?

They want to help et hear you.

In adulthood, friendships get tested in unexpected ways. The highs hit harder, et the lows do too. Life et time move constantly, sometimes viciously, but your friends want to see you through it.

Mind you, these are all lessons I’m still learning myself. Due to the seemingly never-ending perils of an abusive childhood et the unfortunate amount of run-ins with people who are not of their word, I, too, suffer from hyper-independence. Most strong friends do. It’s the direct response to knowing you have to get things done but not being used to having the help needed to get it done.

At the time of this post, there is no cure other than allowing yourself to be vulnerable. But then, you might as well say it’s incurable because have you ever tried vulnerability?! Nearly impossible. Terrible stuff. But! Worth trying if you want to shake things up et achieve the high of running into traffic—without the bruises.

It’s sooo hard asking for help, especially if you’ve convinced yourself you won’t be/can’t be helped before you even ask. But you—we—have to remember that these aren’t just some people you’ve never met or people who “dOn’T oWe YoU aNyThInG” (one day we’ll chit-chat about how that common phrase is so deeply flawed. Not today, though. I can only do so much. Gheesh.)

But even still, breaking the strong friend vow of silence isn’t like riding a bike. You don’t just do it a few times et somehow retain the muscle memory deep within your DNA. It takes practice. Sometimes a lot!

Start by identifying your strongest soldiers— the people you know you can rely on, even when past trauma tries to convince you otherwise! Be real about how you’re feeling; you don’t even have to get into the “why” right away. Start small: just say your emotions out loud et allow the rest to come naturally.

If asking for help feels like a weakness, reframe it. It’s not. It’s also not a superpower. It’s very normal—something we should all feel safe doing. Genuine community thrives on love et a shared desire to care for one another.

Dionne Warwick literally said, “that’s what friends are for.”

Toasting to Miss Warwick’s tea.

I mean, listen to the six-time Grammy Award winner—or don’t—but remember: the next time your chest feels heavy with stress et your favourite things no longer bring you joy because you’re too bottled up et distracted, vulnerability may seem unmanageable in comparison. Et maybe it is. But it’s a discomfort that fades once you’re given a gentle place to land et a safe space to speak.

(The discomfort of suffering in silence et all its side effects, however, doesn’t quite go away.)