No One Noticed I Was the One on Fire

“Sometimes we are so busy being there for others, we forget to be there for ourselves.” — L.R. Knost

I built my strength in emergencies
that never belonged to me.

Ran into flames
just to outrun my own smoke.

Held bandages with blood
still dripping from my own hands.
Said I was fine
because they needed me to be
and I liked being needed.

Didn’t notice the silence
until it stretched across three months
and no one asked why I got quiet.
Or when I last slept.
Or if I ever wanted to stop holding the weight.

They said I was dependable.
I translated that as: disposable.

And kept going
until I couldn’t lift myself
out of the wreckage I kept calling a role.

“People who were never rescued often become the best rescuers. But even heroes collapse when no one checks if they’re breathing.”

There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from being seen as reliable. Not because it’s a burden to show up but because it’s a risk to stop. When no one remembers you were once the child who needed rescuing, your strength becomes your prison. You learn to respond to crisis like it’s a reflex, not a choice.

People who were never held often become excellent holders. They can read emotional room tone like bodyguards. They offer calm when others spiral. They make space, even when they have none left. But the skill didn’t grow from wholeness. It formed in absence. That absence never filled. It just got camouflaged behind roles and reputation.

Eventually, the same pattern that made you feel useful begins to eat you. You become a lifeline that forgets how to reach for one. You teach others how to fall apart without judgment, while judging yourself every time you slow down. What started as love turns into obligation. What felt like purpose now feels like penance.

You weren’t built to be everyone’s rescue plan. You needed saving, too. And even now, you still do. That doesn’t make you less strong. It makes you real. There’s no shame in wanting someone to look at you and notice how tired you’ve become from holding the line.

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