The D Spot

I am tired of being a strong woman today.
There, I said it.
I have carried my children, my husband, my family and my friends for so long. I give everything I have to them all.
I spend at least 36 hours a week caring for my patients and when I come home at night, I tend to feel empty.
I am tired and my back hurts.
Some would argue that finding inner happiness depends on relying on one’s own sense of ‘strength of self.’
Some might say that depending on those outside of us to help us find what we lack inside is a measure of neediness, codependence, or some otherwise identified basic fault.
Is it wrong to admit, as a person and a woman, that there are times when it necessary to be the one carried, instead of the one doing the carrying?
Is it safe to admit when the burden seems too heavy, and the steps too steep?
The fear, at least for me, is that admitting a need and having no one fill it is worse than keeping quiet about it. Better to soldier on through, little cowgirl. Buck up, take it like a woman.
Inside it feels like a highwire act. How much of me is left, and how can I best spread it around?
People call it looking for balance.
I call it being tired.
I am tired of being a strong woman today.