I remember the exact moment I felt so proud (over-the-top proud) of a trait I thought was my greatest strength.
I was driving home from a client meeting. This was back in my wedding planning days. Somewhere between 2016 and 2018.
I’d been listening to a podcast or audiobook (I don’t remember which) about tapping into your greatest strength. Leaning into whatever comes naturally to you.
I parked my car in our carport and got out.
Walking toward the elevator, I was reflecting: What is my greatest strength? What am I the best at? What should I do more of?
And then it hit me.
I thought: I am the BEST (the absolute BEST) at dropping everything and helping my friends and family when they’re in crisis.
I am the best.
I was so proud in that moment.
It turns out that strength (the thing I was so proud of) was actually costing me way more than I realized.
How I Became the “Strong Friend”
If I look back, this makes perfect sense.
I’m an eldest daughter. I come from a very complex, traumatic childhood.
I had to be a caregiver at a very young age. I had to deal with a lot of unpredictable circumstances.
So I’ve always been the type of person who drops everything to deal with a crisis.
Hence why I am (and always have been) very, very, very good at doing this.
Elementary School: Always in Leadership
I put myself in situations where I was the one everyone turned to.
Elementary school: I was in the student body. ASB president in fifth grade. Maybe fourth grade, too, or vice president. I don’t remember exactly.
But I was always in leadership.
Middle school was a weird time (that’s when my mom passed away).
High school: Again, always in the student body. Class president almost every year. Varsity coxswain on the men’s crew team.
I always put myself in leadership positions. Positions where the buck stopped with me.
I had to find the solution.
So in a lot of my friendships, even from a very young age, I was always the friend everyone went to in crisis.
I really thought that was a strength.
College: The Pattern Gets Harder to Maintain
In college, I still had this persona. The “drop everything, fix everything in a crisis” friend.
The strong friend.
I still had that strong friend complex.
But it was getting harder. Because the problems were getting more complex.
And I was also trying to balance learning how to adult. Passing my classes (which, by the way, did not go well freshman year; I failed a lot of classes).
Trying to be the strong person. Holding it all together.
Something had to drop.
For me, that was my GPA at the beginning of freshman year. After being a top student, honor roll, all of that.
It was too much. I couldn’t handle it all.
But I had really built this persona (for myself, but also for the people around me.
It had become part of my identity. At least as far as I saw it.
The Belief That Fueled It All
I started to believe this was my strength.
This is why people came to me.
I couldn’t separate the fact that I was a leader in certain situations, but I didn’t always need to be the person who cleaned up every mess.
My value was being the strong friend. The one who would drop everything. The one who would do anything.
The Allure of Being Indispensable
There’s also some allure to finding yourself in this position.
You feel needed. You feel valuable. You feel irreplaceable.
I never gave anybody else a chance to solve the complex problems. I always had to get in there first and do it.
So what would they do without me? They couldn’t replace me.
And I wasn’t coming in with small, sustainable actions (like I talk about now and do now (we’ll get there)).
Often, they were big, grand gestures.
I was blowing up my life. Ignoring everything I needed to do for myself. Any promises I’d made. Any habits I had.
I would ignore all of those to be the strong friend and solve the problem.
And sometimes that looked like pretty grand gestures.
And then I would get praise for that.
I was really caught in a situation, wasn’t I?
The Hidden Costs I Didn’t See
This episode is all about the hidden costs of being the strong friend.
So let me share some of mine.
I definitely don’t think these are ALL the hidden costs. I’m sure there are more. I’m sure there are costs I haven’t experienced that you or someone you know has.
But these are mine.
Hidden Cost #1: I Was Constantly Betraying Myself
This was one of the biggest wake-up calls.
When you’re the strong friend who always drops everything, the crises just keep coming.
One after another after another.
And it’s really hard to develop any state of stability or normalcy.
What I mean by betraying myself:
Sleep: Let’s say I had a habit of sleeping better. Then someone would have a crisis. I’d stay up with them. Show up at the hospital. Pick them up from jail (that happened once).
I’d completely ignore whatever promise I’d made to myself about sleep.
Food: When you’re in crisis after crisis, cooking nutritious meals goes out the window.
I’d survive on coffee and Starbucks sandwiches for extended periods of time.
Career goals: What were those?
I had them. They were big.
But when it came to actually making things happen, I was always trying to shove weeks of work into a few days. A few hours.
Because by the time I came down from whatever crisis (where I was the strong friend) I was trying to get back to normalcy.
Couldn’t actually do that.
I’d try to cram in all the work I felt like I’d missed.
And then here I was with another crisis.
And if it wasn’t a crisis, I was still constantly being pulled in one direction or another.
Mind you, I’m also dealing with my own life situations.
And those were all mixed in, too.
And because I was the strong friend, I definitely couldn’t depend on anyone else.
Couldn’t ask anyone for help. I had to do it all on my own.
Hidden Cost #2: Denying Other People the Chance to Show Up
This was a big one. And it’s kind of a two-parter.
Part 1: Denying My Friends the Chance to Show Up for ME
I was denying my friends the chance to show up for me.
Because I believed that part of my value to them as a friend was:
Not only that I could show up for them and handle any crisis…
But also that I could show up for myself. That I could solve all my problems on my own.
I have vivid memories of my friends calling me out.
Saying: “You won’t let anybody help you. I want to help you.”
And I really appreciate them.
But I used to just shut them down: “No, no. Thank you so much for saying that. But I don’t need help.”
I was denying them the chance to show up for me.
Part 2: Denying Them the Chance to Show Up for Each Other
But the second part: I was denying them the chance to show up for EACH OTHER.
Because I always jumped in.
I was always the midnight phone call. The person who had to be there for the crisis.
That initial person.
I’d made myself indispensable.
I always said yes. I always dropped everything. They never had a doubt that if they called me, I would show up.
I denied them the opportunity to show up for each other.
I didn’t need to be the indispensable one. The star of the show.
I didn’t need to be the only person on their web.
Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t trying to deny them each other’s friendships. I really encouraged them.
But I really felt like this was my role. And I would do anything to keep it.
But it meant: What if I wasn’t available?
They never really had to call each other.
I’m sure they did, and maybe I just didn’t know about it.
But I really thought this was my role.
And it denied the chance to strengthen all the connections in the web.
This episode digs deep into the hidden costs of always being the strong friend. Listen to the full episode to hear the full story and what finally changed.
Hidden Cost #3: I Created Unsustainable Patterns
The ways I was showing up were so reactionary. So grand. So over-the-top.
I was not living the “show up in small ways” that I talk about now.
I was just going from one big grand gesture to another.
Examples:
If you were having a new baby, I would go fill your entire freezer. I’d cook 20 recipes. That would take days out of my life.
That’s a big grand gesture.
I’d drop everything in the middle of the night if you had a medical situation.
I’d demand you move in with me (slash us, because Michael and I lived together).
I would do all the things. All of them.
There was never a place where I’d say no.
Now, not everything was that disruptive.
Like, I love having people stay with us. That doesn’t feel like a grand gesture to me. (I get it might be to others.)
We have the space. We love to do it.
But doing that AND all the other things?
If you want to do a grand gesture that feels easy and natural, do it.
But I was doing things I KNEW were way more than I had the capacity for.
I knew they were messing up all my promises to myself. All my habits.
And I’d do them anyway.
That created an unsustainable pattern where every time something happened, I felt like I had to completely upend my life to help my friend.
Hidden Cost #4: I Was Building Resentment
This didn’t happen at first.
But the longer I allowed myself into this pattern (the longer I told myself I was the strong friend, the best at dropping everything) the more I did these big, grand, unsustainable gestures…
I started to feel like I had to stay at that level.
If I cooked 20 recipes and froze them for someone, I had to do that for everyone.
And as you grow, you have more people with simultaneous crises.
So, at that point, Is that all I do now?
Three days a week, I have no time for anything else?
I started to build up resentment.
Because I felt like I had to maintain the patterns and levels I’d created for myself.
As I went through this (especially my young 20s), it created this cycle:
Big grand gestures that felt fulfilling. (People praise you for this, let me tell you.)
“Wow, I can’t believe you did that for your friends. You’re so nice.”
And on the back end: So much burnout. Over and over and over again.
The Turning Point (Late 2018)
As the frustrations built, I found myself at a turning point.
I started to reflect: What’s happening here? What’s going on?
Were my friends asking too much? Was I part of the problem?
I don’t think there was one exact moment.
But what I started to realize (especially in late 2018) was this:
I had taken this thing I felt I was the best at, and I’d let it infiltrate all parts of my life.
It Had Infiltrated Everything
My friendships. I’ve talked about that.
My job. It’s a huge reason I stopped wedding planning.
I realized the way I was wedding planning (especially these high-stakes events) required me to constantly betray myself and be the strong friend.
Be the best planner. Do the impossible. Make grand things happen.
I’d let it infiltrate my work life.
In some ways, I’d let it infiltrate my relationship with Michael.
I’d really taken on that I could do all these things.
And I’d gotten myself in quite a pickle.
The Realization: I Created This
As I noticed this had infiltrated all these areas, it became very clear:
Although sometimes I resented my friends or was frustrated they’d ask me to do something they’d seen me do a million times…
I could only be so mad at them. If at all.
Because I had created this pattern.
In fact, I had begged for this pattern. I had pushed for this pattern.
A Surgery Example
There are times a friend would tell me they had to have surgery.
And I’d be like: “Okay, what day? I’ll come. Do you have someone to drive you? You don’t? Okay, I’ll wait in the waiting room. I’ll drive you home. While you sleep, I’ll cook all these meals.”
And they’d say: “No, no, that’s too much.”
And I’d be like: “No, but I WILL do that. I WANT to do that. I NEED to do that.”
I almost demanded and pushed my way into this situation.
And then because of that, it kept repeating.
I had created the pattern.
What I Finally Understood
The more I felt it in my life, the more I noticed the pattern again and again and again.
I saw that this role (being the strong friend who dropped everything) this thing I thought was my greatest superpower…
Not only was it harming me.
It really wasn’t serving anyone else.
At least not at the level I was doing it.
There’s a difference between genuinely wanting to help (feeling like you have capacity) and continuing to take care of yourself…
And what I was doing: Identifying as the strong friend. The crisis friend. The drop-anything friend.
And putting that identity above all else.
Including my health. My other relationships. My people’s relationships with each other (which I wanted to encourage, but wasn’t actively through my actions).
Ready to hear how this pattern can actually shift? Tune into the complete episode for the step-by-step process of breaking free from the strong friend role.
How I Started to Change (The 5+ Year Process)
If you’re wondering: “Okay, you realized you’re a huge part of the problem. How did you make shifts?”
Here’s my process.
This was 2018. It’s now 2025. So we’re talking about five-ish years.
It has been a slow unraveling process. A bunch of shifts over time.
Step 1: Recognizing the Pattern (6 Months to a Year)
The first piece was just recognizing the pattern.
Noticing what people were calling me for. What I was offering.
The grand gesture would come out of my mouth, and I’d hear it.
I didn’t feel like I could backtrack yet.
Sometimes I’d be in the middle of cooking 20 meals and realize: “Oh wow. I’ve done it again. I am doing this again. That’s why I’m frustrated.”
The first step was just awareness.
I was probably six months to a year in that phase.
Step 2: Calling It Out in the Moment
As I built awareness (especially when there would be asks or I’d offer) I’d notice myself start to push.
And as I was doing it, I’d actually stop myself.
I’d say: “Actually, hold on. Can I circle back with you about this?”
In the moment, I’d acknowledge (out loud, to the other person) that this pattern was happening.
I’d say something like:
“Oh wow. That was a really big task I offered to take on. Now that I’m saying it out loud, I don’t know if I have the capacity for that. Can I think about how to make it more manageable? Because I do want to show up for you.”
That was me managing myself.
Step 3: Bridge Boundaries (Not Wall Boundaries)
Here’s where a lot of people get caught up.
You want to make these shifts. You set a bunch of boundaries.
And your friends have an adjustment. Because they’re very used to your identity as the strong friend.
Whether that’s you opening up to them, them asking for help, or you pushing your help on them (to be honest).
I want to remind you: This will be a shift. People will probably still come to you.
And it’s not going to feel right because you’re trying to make this transition.
What I Did: Bridge Boundaries, Not Wall Boundaries
What I mean:
If someone asked, “Can you pick me up from surgery? Can you stay the night? Can you stop by a couple times that week?”
(That’s a lot. But guys, I really did stuff like that.)
Instead of just saying no (which is a wall: “No, no, no, no”). Which I think is what a lot of people do when trying to make these transitions…
I’d offer bridge boundaries.
I’d say: “That’s really not something I’m capable of doing this week. But I can…”
What would be a good bridge? Something more manageable.
“I can drive you to the appointment, wait, and bring you home. I can stay with you for an hour or two. And I can definitely call and check in a couple of times that week. If you need more support, we can figure out how to find you that.”
That feels more accessible to me.
I’m not promising I’ll drop everything all the time.
I really did want to help. I just scaled back.
It Took Time
But it took time. It was wired in me.
It was my gut reaction. Especially (this is a huge therapy piece) when it’s that fight-or-flight response.
You want to help your people. (I talked about this last week.)
So I’d go into overdrive: What actions do I take? What do I do? I want to help you.
It took a while to rework that.
What I’m Still Working On
Something I want to acknowledge: I’m still working on being okay with this imperfect journey.
Making little bits of progress.
I definitely fall back into the pattern every once in a while. Even five years down the road.
The Guilt of Showing Up Differently
I also have a big struggle with places where I know in the past, I showed up in a certain way.
I did those big grand gestures.
And in my brain: Well, you did that for Friend A. Now Friend B is asking. They’re in the same situation. And I feel guilty I’m not showing up the same way.
That’s been a really big struggle.
I have to remind myself: In the end, it’s not that I’m a bad friend. I’m not a lesser friend.
I’m just trying to build more sustainable patterns.
That can look like supporting my friends in small ways over a long period of time.
Rather than diving in at the moment of crisis and absorbing all of it.
But sometimes I have to tell myself that on repeat. Because I feel really bad.
That’s been quite the process.
Some Relationships Fell Away
I want to acknowledge: There have been friendships, connections, big relationships that fell away during this transition.
They couldn’t make it work. No matter how much I communicated. No matter how many bridge boundaries I set. No matter how much I explained, I was trying to do this, and it wasn’t sustainable.
There have been relationships lost.
That’s just what it is.
I don’t want to make it sound like every single person adjusted well.
Some people didn’t. For some people, it was easy. For some people, it was a process.
It was me falling back into the pattern with them, or them making requests, and us having to navigate when I’d say no or offer a bridge boundary.
It’s Not Done
And I definitely don’t want it to sound like it’s done.
I am still working on this. I probably will be for a while.
Where I Am Now
But if you’re listening and you are the strong friend, I hope this is permission to start making small shifts.
It doesn’t have to be a bunch of hard boundaries and overnight changes.
It can be a bunch of little shifts, changes, and moments of awareness.
And they do add up over time.
Because I’d say: As much as I sometimes fall back into an old pattern, or say yes when I should have said no, or initially offer a grander gesture…
For the most part, I’m now in a place where the ways I show up feel way more sustainable.
Way. More. Sustainable.
What Helped Most: The Four Phases
I talked about this last week (showing up in crisis).
One of the biggest things that helped me was breaking down support into four phases:
- Immediate safety/basic needs
- Still in crisis
- Getting stable
- Longer-term support as everything reintegrates
If you’re the strong friend, you’re probably coming in hot in those initial two phases.
At least I did.
Jumping into action. Ready to fight. Ready to make things happen.
And there are definitely times I still need to do that. Get somebody to safety. Something is wrong.
But for the most part, I’ve shifted much of my support to the final two phases.
The ongoing.
Because it allows me to take myself out of that reactionary piece and create something way more sustainable that integrates into my life.
And it’s also a place where many people don’t get the support they need.
So even though it’s not the initial “jump to action, solve all the problems, be the crisis person”…
It still adds up. It’s still valuable and important support.
Your Permission Slip
If you’re the strong friend, this is your permission to start making small shifts.
You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to do it all overnight.
Just start noticing the pattern.
Start calling it out. Start offering bridge boundaries instead of wall boundaries.
It will take time. Some relationships might not make it. That’s okay.
What matters is building something sustainable.
Because you can’t keep betraying yourself. You can’t keep burning out.
And honestly? Your friends don’t need you to be indispensable.
They need you to be there. Consistently. In ways that actually work for your life.
Small, sustainable support over time matters more than big, unsustainable grand gestures.
Are you the strong friend? What costs have you noticed? What are you working on? Comment below.
Want more on this topic? Go listen to Episode 85: Shifting People Pleasing Habits with Deb Blum. It’s not exactly about being the strong friend, but it kind of is. She talks about always being there for everyone else but never letting anyone see her or show up for her. It’s another version of the same pattern.
If any of this resonated with you, listen to the full episode here for the complete journey from strong friend burnout to sustainable, real friendship.
