I was scrolling through YouTube the other day when I came across this video about a "Glue Man" in sports, and honey, it stopped me in my tracks.

The comment that really got me said: "A 'Glue Man' is the best thing in life. These are people who look out for you, have your back at all times, and even shield you from danger. If you have such people in your life consider yourself enormously blessed in this wicked and treacherous world."

And all I could think was: but what about the Glue Person themselves? Who's looking out for them?

The Invisible Heroes Among Us

Sports teams, bands, businesses, friend groups, families - they all have that one person who secretly holds everything together. The Glue Person. They're the ones who smooth over conflicts, remember everyone's birthdays, check in when someone's having a rough day, and somehow always know exactly what to say or do to keep the group functioning.

But here's the thing nobody talks about: being the Glue Person is exhausting. And lonely. And sometimes, downright painful.

I know because I AM that person. In my family, in my friend circles, even when I was teaching - I was always the one making sure everyone else was okay. I was the one my students came to when they needed someone to listen. I was the one my colleagues vented to during lunch breaks. I was the one my friends called when their worlds were falling apart.

And you know what? I loved it. I still do. There's something beautiful about being that safe space for others, about being the person people can count on when everything else feels uncertain.

When Being the Glue Becomes the Burden

But here's what that YouTube comment didn't mention: Glue People are often unknown, unheralded, and after performing their acts of heroism, conveniently forgotten. We show up, we fix things, we hold space, we make everything better, and then we go home to our empty houses and sit with our own problems in silence.

Since losing my Mama, this reality has hit me even harder. She was MY Glue Person. She was the one who looked out for me, had my back, shielded me from danger. And now that she's gone, I'm realizing just how much I gave to others while never really learning how to ask for what I needed in return.

I'm the friend who sends the perfect meme when you're sad, but I cry in my car after grocery shopping because a song reminded me of my mother. I'm the one who remembers to check on everyone else's mental health, but I struggle to admit when my own thoughts are eating me alive. I'm the one who holds space for everyone else's grief, but I process my own in the shower where nobody can see.

The Glue Person's Dilemma

The hardest part about being the Glue Person is that people expect you to always have it together. They don't think to check on you because you're the one who checks on everyone else. They don't offer support because you're the one who provides it. They don't see you struggling because you've gotten so good at being strong for others that you've forgotten how to be vulnerable for yourself.

And here's the kicker: we often don't even realize we're doing it. We've been the Glue Person for so long that we think our value lies in what we can give to others, not in who we are as individuals with our own needs, dreams, and struggles.

I spent years being the teacher who stayed late to help struggling students, the friend who dropped everything to be there during crises, the daughter who put her own life on hold to care for her mother. And while I don't regret any of it, I'm learning that somewhere along the way, I lost myself in the process of holding everyone else together.

The Hidden Cost of Being Strong

What people don't understand about Glue People is that we often have high functioning depression. We show up, we perform, we take care of business, and then we go home and completely fall apart. We're so used to being the solution that we don't know how to be the problem. We're so practiced at being the helper that we've forgotten how to be helped.

The comment on that video talked about how blessed you are if you have a Glue Person in your life, and that's true. But I want to flip that script: if you ARE the Glue Person, you deserve to be equally blessed. You deserve to have people who look out for you, who have your back, who shield you from danger.

Finding Your Own Glue

This is where I want to recommend something that's been helping me on this journey: Self-Healing Isn't Pretty: The Raw, Real, Unfiltered Journey to Getting Better (Even When It Feels Like You're Falling Apart) (affiliate link) by Mira Rowen. This book gets it. It understands that healing as a Glue Person means learning to pour into your own cup first, even when it feels selfish or uncomfortable.

The book talks about how self-healing isn't about becoming someone new - it's about remembering who you were before you became everyone else's solution. It's about learning to be vulnerable in a world that's taught you that your strength is your only value. It's about understanding that taking care of yourself isn't selfish; it's necessary.

Redefining What It Means to Be Strong

I'm learning that being the Glue Person doesn't mean I have to sacrifice my own well-being for others. It doesn't mean I have to be strong all the time. It doesn't mean I can't ask for help or admit when I'm struggling.

Real strength isn't about never falling apart. Real strength is about falling apart and still choosing to put yourself back together. It's about being the Glue Person for others while also being the Glue Person for yourself.

Creating a New Kind of Community

What if instead of having one Glue Person who holds everything together, we all took turns being the glue? What if we created communities where everyone checks on everyone? Where being strong doesn't mean being silent? Where asking for help is just as valued as giving it?

I'm trying to build this kind of community through my work with teachers who are struggling, through this blog, through the conversations I have with other parents who are trying to figure it all out. I want to create spaces where Glue People can admit they're tired, where we can be vulnerable without losing our value, where we can receive the same care we give to others.

The Angels Who Show Up

Now, I don't want to paint a picture that I'm completely alone in this world because that wouldn't be honest. God has blessed me with some incredible people who show up and show out when I need them most. These are the friends and family who somehow know exactly when I've run out of glue, who appear right when I'm about to completely fall apart.

They're the ones who text me at 2 AM when they sense something's off. They're the ones who show up at my door with food when I'm too overwhelmed to cook. They're the ones who take my daughter for a few hours so I can just breathe. They're the ones who let me cry on their shoulder without trying to fix everything. They are the ones they go, "Hey, check your CashApp, Venmo, or Zelle, I sent you something just because..." 

These beautiful souls remind me that even Glue People need their own glue sometimes. They've taught me that accepting help doesn't make me weak - it makes me human. And I am so incredibly grateful for every single one of them. I have to celebrate the people who make this journey bearable. You know who you are and I love you. 🥰

To My Fellow Glue People

If you're reading this and you recognize yourself in these words, I want you to know something: you are not responsible for holding everyone else together. You are not required to be strong all the time. You are not selfish for having needs of your own.

You are allowed to fall apart. You are allowed to ask for help. You are allowed to not be okay. You are allowed to be human.

The world needs your light, your care, your ability to hold space for others. But it also needs you to be whole, to be healthy, to be healing. And that can't happen if you're constantly pouring from an empty cup.

The Journey Forward

I'm still figuring this out, honestly. I'm still learning how to be the Glue Person for others while also being gentle with myself. I'm still practicing asking for help, still working on being vulnerable, still trying to believe that I'm worthy of the same care I give to others.

But I'm learning that healing isn't about becoming someone new. It's about remembering who I was before I became everyone else's safe space. It's about honoring my mother's memory by taking care of myself the way she took care of me. It's about teaching my daughter that being strong doesn't mean being silent.

If you're a Glue Person reading this, please know that you're not alone. We see you. We appreciate you. And we want you to know that you deserve to be held together just as much as you hold others together.

You are valuable not because of what you do for others, but because of who you are. And who you are is enough.

Sending love to all my fellow Glue People out there. You're doing amazing, even when it doesn't feel like it.

You can watch the video here. 

Want to dive deeper into conversations like this? Check out my podcasts where I talk about healing, motherhood, creativity, and finding your way after loss. You can find them [here].

Remember: Being the Glue Person is beautiful, but don't forget to glue yourself back together too.

Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you purchase through these links, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. This helps support my blog and allows me to continue creating content for you.