Held Together by Too Much

I have a high tolerance for stress —
and I’m not proud of it.

It means I don’t quit early, even when I already know I won’t stay.

It means I’ve developed a twisted relationship with stress and trauma, where being consumed by anxiety feels… normal, and somehow makes me highly functional.

People describe me as reliable, diligent, friendly, a workaholic, resilient, passionate.
And while all of those might be true, the only one I’d proudly claim is “passionate.”

Every job I’ve had has felt like a pressure cooker —
hot, intense, swallowing up my whole being.

The moment I knew I had to stop was so small it almost didn’t make sense.

I woke up early for a job I had downgraded to because I wanted something easier.

I was on time, even early.
I meditated. I did breathwork.
And then my anxiety kicked in anyway.

I rushed with intention, trying to be five minutes early — because workers like me always try to be early, always try to be perfect.

But when I reached my gate, I realized I had done everything…
except brush my teeth.

I never went back to the house.
I walked into the office and wrote my resignation letter.

Everyone was shocked.
And I was shocked that they were shocked.

Because behind every “reliable” and “diligent” worker is someone who has learned to hold themselves together with trauma bonding and people-pleasing.

Someone who can normalize anything — even the unbearable.

And here’s the part people rarely understand:
Those are very unstable people.

Behind every worker who seems to weather any storm, every partner who seems to carry the heavy weight of a relationship, is someone who is often the opposite of what they’re portraying.

People say, “But they looked okay. They seemed fine yesterday.”
Sound familiar? That’s the nature of hidden struggle.

As my life coach says,
“If it doesn’t make logical sense, it’s psychological.”