Mike’s a pressure sponge. He cracks jokes when tension spikes. He smooths things over between colleagues who treat collaboration like a contact sport. When others flail and unravel, he stays focused. Last week, his boss smiled as she dropped two projects in his lap mid-meeting. “You’re the only one I don’t worry about.” He smiled back. That night, unable to sleep, he stared at the ceiling, with no idea how he’d pull it off.
Everyone leans on Janna. When her team’s launch imploded the night before go-live, she stayed till 3 a.m. untangling the mess. She walked in the next morning hoping to coast. Instead? A coworker panicked over an unanswered email and fired off: “I rely on you! I can’t move forward without your answer!”
Steven’s everyone’s sounding board. Level-headed, big-hearted, endlessly patient. But he can’t remember the last time someone asked how he was doing. He jokes about billing for all the free therapy he gives. Lately, he leaves work drained—and invisible
Tasha runs operations like a Swiss watch. When a COVID wave hit, she managed vendors, PTO gaps, and coverage logistics—without blinking. People call her “unflappable.” What they didn’t see—she cried in her car every morning for a month because she had nowhere else to fall apart.
These are the “strong ones.” Not flashy, not loud, not needy. The ones everyone counts on—because they make it look easy.
Here’s the thing about highly-functioning, competent, emotionally intelligent people:
They look fine. They absorb other’s chaos and hand back calm. They juggle deadlines, coach teammates, mediate tension—without making it their manager or coworkers’ problem. So everyone gives them more.
More projects. More problems. More pressure.
And when they finally crack?
Everyone’s surprised. “They seemed fine.”
Exactly. That’s the problem.
If you’re the strong one in your workplace, read this before you burn out:
Your role as “the strong one” often comes with a heavy emotional toll and very little room to be human. Others don’t cut you slack because they don’t believe you need it because you’re “calm under pressure” and “always handle it.”
1. Take a break before you break.
You’re allowed to say “enough.” You don’t need to wait until you’re sobbing in the stairwell or slamming your hand in the car door on the way home.
2. Redefine your act
Over-functioning isn’t strength—it’s a slow bleed. Have you been saying “sure, I’ll do it” while you’re silently drowning? Strength is knowing when to speak up, set limits, and name your own needs before burnout turns them into emergencies.
3. You’re not the emotional shock absorber.
Being good at managing chaos doesn’t mean you have to own everyone else’s. If your boss or team leans on you because “you’re so good at handling it,” that doesn’t mean you’re obligated take everything on your shoulders. Let someone else hold the wheel. Take the vacation. You can hand things off. Mute Slack.
4. You deserve reciprocity.
Who asks you how you’re doing—and doesn’t follow it with “also, can you…?” If no one comes to mind, that’s a gap. And you can fill it—with relationships that aren’t one-sided.
Here’s the bottom line: Strong people need support, too. They rarely get offered it because they’re so good at hiding the cost of carrying everyone else. You don’t have to keep doing that. So go ahead. Take off the superwoman cape. You’re not less capable when you ask for time off the front lines. You’re … human.
© 2025 Lynne Curry, PhD, SPHR, SHRM-SCP
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I wish I felt it was as easy as holding boundaries. My company is chronically short-handed in my department. It seems like they try so hard to be “right sized” that we constantly are short staffed because if someone quits or gets promoted we’re left short-handed for months while they recruit and train a replacement. We are supposed to be a department of 8. One person got fired and one quit earlier this year, and now we’re a department of 6, with one of us slated to promote out in October. It’s been like this for the three years I’ve been with this company. It’s a real challenge.
Agreed, that’s more than boundaries.
These are “telling” stories–telling how much toll it takes to be that glue that holds things together. Good action tips for recharging, giving yourself permission to breathe and take a break, etc. Great compassion and support here!
Thanks, Suz, it’s hard to be the strong one and oh, how we depend on those folks, and often find ourselves in that role.