Hello Darlings,

Today, I find myself feeling weighed down by expectations—heavy, almost like a crown I never asked for but can’t seem to take off. I’m the family’s “star child,” the one everyone looks up to with pride and high hopes. People see my achievements, the awards, the degrees, the promotions, and assume I’m set for life. But under this polished image lies a fear that I carry alone: the fear of falling short. What if I fail?

There’s this unspoken assumption around me that I’ll always be fine, that my problems aren’t as serious as anyone else’s because I’ve always found a way through. People have placed so much faith in my resilience that I’m left to handle the weight alone, with no support when the cracks start to show. I wonder if anyone sees how lonely it feels to be this “strong” all the time or realizes that I need reassurance too—that even I am allowed to be vulnerable. But when you’re seen as the “one who always makes it work,” there’s rarely an offer to lean on someone else.

It feels like walking a tightrope. The stakes are so high because there’s no soft place to land if I stumble. If I make one wrong step, I don’t know where I could go to pick myself back up again. The idea of failure is terrifying—not because I wouldn’t try again but because it feels like I’d be letting down everyone who believed in me. And that emptiness—the feeling that there’s nowhere for me to turn if things go wrong—leaves a hollow ache. I yearn for support, someone to tell me that I’m more than the trophies or titles, that it’s okay to take a break or, heaven forbid, to fail.

Mentally, this “star child” role has been draining. I’ve spent years proving myself, believing my worth was tied to my success. But what if there’s more to me than that? I keep reminding myself that I am enough as I am, that my achievements don’t define my value. But it’s a daily struggle to remember that I’m allowed to be human too—to have fears, to fall short, to try again.

Maybe one day, I’ll find a way to lay down this crown and be seen for who I am, not just what I accomplish. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll feel safe enough to share the weight of my worries, without the fear of shattering the image everyone has built for me. For now, I’m learning to balance, to find peace in small steps, and to remind myself that being “me” should be enough.

With Love,

Anna H.