Soft Doesn’t Mean Weak: Redefining Strength Through Vulnerability
For most of my life, I thought strength meant holding it all together.
Staying composed, pushing through, being the reliable one — even when I was exhausted. I thought showing emotion made me look unstable or unprepared.
But somewhere between teaching Pilates, sitting in therapy training, and living real life, I realized something important:
Strength isn’t about how much you can hold. It’s about knowing when to let go.
Learning to Soften
In Pilates, we often cue clients to “engage” their core — but we also remind them to release when the work is done. Without that release, muscles become tense, movements stiff.
That same principle applies emotionally. I had spent years engaging — in work, in relationships, in trying to be “on” all the time — but I rarely allowed myself to release.
My softness felt unsafe. My tears felt inconvenient. My boundaries felt selfish.
But therapy has taught me that repression isn’t resilience — it’s resistance.
When we numb our emotions, we also numb our capacity for joy, connection, and empathy.
What Therapy Training Taught Me About Strength
In my MFT program, we talk about “congruence” — when what you feel on the inside matches how you show up on the outside. It’s one of the most powerful tools in therapy because authenticity builds trust.
The more congruent I become, the stronger I feel. Not because I have it all together, but because I’m no longer pretending to.
I’ve learned that vulnerability doesn’t make me fragile — it makes me human.
And when I model that humanness with others, it gives them permission to do the same.
That’s true strength. The kind that softens walls instead of reinforcing them.
How My Body Helped Me Understand My Heart
Movement has always been my first language. Before I had words for how I felt, I would run, stretch, or move through Pilates sequences to process my emotions.
Now, I understand why. The body is always communicating — even when the mind doesn’t want to listen.
Tight hips often hold unspoken grief. A shallow breath can reveal unacknowledged anxiety. A clenched jaw can carry anger we’ve never verbalized.
As I became more attuned to my body, I began noticing patterns: how tension rose when I was avoiding a hard conversation, how fatigue hit when I ignored my own needs.
Pilates became my mirror — reflecting back where I was resisting softness.
So, I started practicing vulnerability not just in words, but in movement.
Allowing myself to pause during a class when I felt overwhelmed. Crying on the mat when something surfaced. Choosing gentleness over perfection.
Each time, I realized that softness wasn’t weakness — it was truth.
The Millennial Myth of “Having It Together”
As a millennial, I think we were conditioned to equate emotional strength with independence. We learned to grind, to survive, to stay polished. But the more people I meet — clients, classmates, and friends — the more I see how exhausted that makes us.
We’re learning, slowly, that wholeness requires both grit and grace.
That it’s okay to need help.
That therapy, rest, and softness aren’t luxuries — they’re maintenance.
And maybe that’s the quiet revolution of our generation: choosing softness in a world that taught us to stay hard.
Reclaiming My Definition of Strength
These days, I define strength differently:
- It’s being honest about what hurts.
- It’s asking for help when I need it.
- It’s setting boundaries without guilt.
- It’s giving myself permission to start again.
Strength isn’t about pushing through pain — it’s about being curious about what the pain is trying to tell you.
Every time I honor that truth, I grow stronger in a way that no achievement could replicate.
I’m learning to hold both: the strong and the soft, the steady and the surrendering.
Because life — like Pilates — is about balance. You can be grounded and gentle, powerful and peaceful, resilient and real.
So when I feel myself slipping into old patterns of overdoing or overprotecting, I remind myself:
“Soft doesn’t mean weak — it means alive.”
🪞 Reflection Prompt:
Where in your life are you still confusing strength with self-protection? What would it look like to soften — just a little?
If this post spoke to you, share it with someone who might need the reminder that softness is sacred. You can also follow my reflections and wellness journey on Instagram @ayanab_ for more posts about healing, embodiment, and emotional growth.

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