“Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness”

“Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness.”

I’ve been holding onto these words lately, letting them settle into the parts of me that have felt weathered and worn. We’re taught that strength looks like armour, like indifference, like being untouched by the world — but I’m starting to realise that real strength lives in the softness we refuse to surrender. It’s in choosing tenderness when life hardens us, in keeping our hearts open when we have every reason to close them. This kind of courage isn’t loud or glamorous; it’s quiet, human, and profoundly brave. And perhaps this is what true strength really looks like.

Maybe I’m writing this because I’ve felt my own heart wanting to close lately. Maybe this is my reminder too — that even when life asks us to toughen up, there’s a deeper kind of resilience in staying open.

My heart clenches every time someone says to me, “Oh, but you’re so strong.” I’m not sure where to begin with how those words make me feel. It’s almost like there’s an expectation that I’ve mastered my anger, my resentment, my hurt — that I’m meant to be completely unaffected by the things I’ve endured.

But maybe that isn’t the whole truth. Maybe I haven’t healed every wound I thought I had. Or maybe — and this is something I’m only just starting to understand, maybe I am strong, just not in the way the world defines strength. Maybe my strength isn’t the hardened kind. Maybe it’s the kind that still lets itself feel.

I am not strong because I am untouched. I am not strong because pain has passed through me without leaving marks. I am strong because despite everything, my heart has not blackened.

I’m strong because I haven’t let the world turn me cold.

For a long time I thought that was a flaw. I used to imagine that one day I’d grow so exhausted that I’d end up shutting down, protecting myself with walls so high no one could ever reach me. A heart guarded to the point of numbness. A soul untouched because it was too terrified to feel.

But that isn’t who I am. And what a blessing that is. To not have a hardened heart. To not hide from feeling. To not run from letting my heart and soul be seen.

Softness scares us because it makes us visible.

It shows the world where the cracks are. It shows us where we are tender.

And yet, isn’t that what makes us human?

Do you not want to adapt to the cruelty of the world? Do you not want to leave this earth without hope? Do you not want to leave people without softness. Do you not want to walk through life with your guard locked tight, never allowing anyone to see the kindness in your eyes?

We have all endured something. Every single one of us carries our own ache, our own heartbreak, our own quiet storms. So why pretend otherwise? Why act as if acknowledging our tenderness somehow makes us weak?

If we’re all fractured in some way, if we’ve all felt pain, shouldn’t we show each other softness anyway? Shouldn’t we meet each other with gentleness instead of comparison, compassion instead of competition? Why are we measuring pain like it’s a contest, as if the one with the biggest burden wins?

Just listen.

Just sit beside someone in their hurt.

Just be a softer place for someone to land.

My darling soul, I challenge you — open your heart. Open your mind. Do not armour yourself so heavily that nothing can reach you, not even joy. Let yourself feel. Let yourself be seen. Let yourself soften where you’ve been hardened by survival.

Because this, this is courage.

This is strength.

This is what it means to stay human in a world that often forgets how.

And may you never confuse protection with peace.