We praise resilience.
We celebrate it, reward it, and wear it like a badge of honour.
“She’s so strong.”
“She always bounces back.”
“She just gets on with it.”
But what if what we call resilience… is actually collapse in disguise?
What if our ability to keep coping has become the very thing that’s breaking us?
Over the years I’ve coached thousands of brilliant, high-capacity women – doctors, teachers, business owners, community leaders – and I see it all the time. They’re still functioning, still showing up, still holding it all together. But the light in their eyes has dimmed. They’re tired in a way a holiday can’t fix.
It’s not burnout in the dramatic sense. It’s something quieter, subtler, harder to name. A slow erosion of self that hides behind competence.
That’s what I call toxic resilience.
The shadow side of strength
Many of us were raised to believe that strength means endurance. That to be dependable is to be available. That the ability to “just keep going” is a virtue.
And on the surface, it’s admirable.
Resilience got us through tough seasons. It helped us care for our families, lead our teams, build our careers.
But somewhere along the way, “resilience” stopped being a resource and became an identity.
We started to believe that to be okay, we must always be coping.
That’s when resilience turns toxic.
When we override our exhaustion because “people are counting on us.”
When we smile through meetings while silently bracing inside.
When our bodies are whispering “please stop” but we push through because we don’t want to let anyone down.
We’ve mistaken numbness for strength. Endurance for wisdom. Holding it together for holding it all.
The quiet collapse
Toxic resilience rarely looks like breakdown.
It looks like functional collapse:
- Going through the motions with a calm face.
- Saying “I’m fine” and half-believing it.
- Feeling detached from things that used to light you up.
Your calendar is full, but your soul feels empty.
You wake up already tired, go to bed wired, and live somewhere between “too much” and “not enough.”
The performance of being fine.
You’re coping, but you’re not connecting.
You’re getting things done, but you’re quietly disappearing inside them.
If this sounds familiar, please hear me when I say this:
You are not broken.
You’re just exhausted from being resilient for too long.
What real resilience looks like
True resilience isn’t about bouncing back. It’s about coming back – to yourself.
It’s not armour; it’s adaptability.
It’s not stoicism; it’s self-connection.
When I speak about Soft Power®, this is what I mean.
It’s the kind of strength that bends and breathes.
The kind that listens to your body, honours your limits, and chooses compassion over control.
Real resilience draws on the Queen’s calm authority, the Mother’s care, the Lover’s replenishment, and the Sorceress’s intuition.
It’s knowing that pausing isn’t weakness – it’s wisdom.
That rest isn’t indulgent – it’s responsible.
That asking for help isn’t failure – it’s leadership.
Because the truth is, you don’t build resilience by pushing through.
You build it by learning how to stop without collapsing.
Real strength isn’t about carrying on regardless. It’s about knowing when to pause, breathe, and let your nervous system catch up.
If you’re noticing the signs of toxic resilience – the tension, the tiredness, the quiet sense of “I can’t keep doing this” – you don’t need to power through.
Start small.
Our free Overwhelm First Aid Kit will help you calm your body and mind in just a few minutes, using simple, evidence-based tools designed by women, for women.
The world doesn’t need you tougher.
It needs you rested, real, and ready to feel again.
You might also like to read...
- Toxic Resilience: When coping becomes collapse in disguise - November 24, 2025
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