Teaching My Kids to Be Strong Without Losing My Own Softness
Raising kids is one of those things that makes you take a hard look at yourself, whether you want to or not. You’re teaching them how to navigate life—how to be kind, how to be tough, how to handle the messes that come their way—and all the while, you’re realizing just how much you’re still figuring out for yourself.
For me, it’s always been about balance. I want my kids to be strong, to stand up for themselves, and to face challenges head-on. But I also don’t want them to lose the softness that makes them human—the part of them that feels deeply, loves openly, and doesn’t shy away from vulnerability.
And the truth is, that’s a reflection of what I’m still learning for myself. Because let’s be honest: the world can make you hard if you’re not careful. It can make you feel like strength means shutting people out or pretending you’re okay when you’re not. But I don’t want to teach my kids that version of strength. I want to show them what it looks like to be strong and soft—to hold their own while still holding space for others.
Strength Without Bitterness
Life has handed me some tough lessons—some I saw coming, and some that blindsided me completely. And I’ll admit, there were times I let those lessons harden me. I’d tell myself, “You don’t have time to fall apart,” or, “You have to toughen up for your kids.”
But here’s what I’ve realized: toughness doesn’t mean closing off. Strength isn’t about pretending things don’t hurt; it’s about feeling those things and choosing to keep going anyway. That’s what I want my kids to see. I want them to know it’s okay to feel hurt, to cry, to take a moment—and still be strong enough to rise afterward.
So, I stopped telling myself to “toughen up.” Instead, I started telling myself to let it hurt, but not to let it harden me.
Leading By Example
Kids are watching everything. The way I talk to myself when I’m frustrated. The way I react when things go wrong. The way I handle the moments that make me want to scream.
If I want my kids to grow up knowing they can be both strong and soft, I have to show them what that looks like in real life. That means apologizing when I lose my temper. Admitting when I don’t have all the answers. Letting them see me cry when I’m overwhelmed—but also letting them see me get back up.
It’s not about being perfect (thank God for that, because I’d fail miserably). It’s about being real with them, so they understand that strength isn’t about always having it together.
Teaching Strength as a Gift, Not a Weapon
One thing I’m intentional about is teaching my kids that strength isn’t about overpowering others—it’s about standing firm in who you are. I don’t want them to confuse strength with aggression or dominance.
I tell them, “Your strength is for protecting yourself and others, not for tearing people down.” I want them to use their voices, not as weapons, but as tools for change, for kindness, and for holding their boundaries.
But I also remind them that strength includes knowing when to step back, when to listen, and when to let someone else take the lead. It’s a fine line, but it’s one worth walking.
Finding My Balance
The hardest part of this journey is realizing that teaching my kids to be both strong and soft requires me to find that balance in myself first. And honestly, I don’t always get it right.
There are days I lean too far into one side or the other—days I shut down because I feel like I have to be unshakable, and days I let my emotions run the show because I’m just so damn tired. But the beauty of parenting is that it’s a process. Every day, I get another chance to model the kind of strength and softness I want them to carry with them.
Softness Is Strength Too
We live in a world that tells us softness is weakness. That being vulnerable, kind, or compassionate means you’ll get taken advantage of. And yeah, there are moments when being soft feels risky especially nowadays.
But I tell my kids that softness is its own kind of strength. It takes courage to care about others, to admit when you’re struggling, and to keep loving even when the world feels heavy. I don’t want them to grow up thinking they have to shut down parts of themselves to survive.
So, I try to model that softness for them. I tell them I love them a million times a day. I show them it’s okay to say, “I need help” or “I’m scared.” And when they’re hurting, I don’t try to rush them out of it. I sit with them in it, because that’s what softness does—it stays.
Final Thoughts
The hardest part of this journey is realizing that teaching my kids to be both strong and soft requires me to find that balance in myself first. And honestly, I don’t always get it right.
There are days I lean too far into one side or the other—days I shut down because I feel like I have to be unshakable, and days I let my emotions run the show because I’m just so damn tired. But the beauty of parenting is that it’s a process. Every day, I get another chance to model the kind of strength and softness I want them to carry with them.
