Everybody Needs Her, But Who Is There for Her?

The Hidden Cost of Carrying Everyone, Staying Silent, and Finding Comfort in Alcohol, Food, Sex, Drugs, and Other Ways of Numbing the Pain

There is a particular kind of loneliness that has nothing to do with being physically alone. It belongs to the woman whose phone rings constantly, whose name appears in everybody else's emergency plan, whose home has become the gathering place, whose advice is sought after, whose strength is assumed, and whose ability to “figure it out” has become so reliable that almost no one thinks to ask what all of that responsibility is costing her.

She may have people all around her. She may have children, a spouse or partner, coworkers, clients, neighbors, and a circle of friends she genuinely loves. She may even be the person who created that circle because the family she was born into is absent, fractured, emotionally unavailable, estranged, deceased, or simply uninvolved. Her friends became her sisters. Their children became nieces and nephews. Holidays were recreated. Birthdays were celebrated. Group chats became family rooms. She built the kind of community she needed because the one she inherited was not enough.

There is something beautiful about that.

There can also be something profoundly exhausting about it when she becomes the foundation everybody else stands on.

She knows everyone's problems. She remembers who has a doctor's appointment. She knows whose marriage is falling apart, whose teenager is acting up, who is short on money, who hates her job, who is depressed, and who just needs somebody to listen. She is the one sending the “Did you make it home?” text. She checks on the friend who went quiet. She notices changes in people's voices. She remembers the anniversary of somebody else's loss.

But when she goes quiet, the world sometimes keeps moving.

And when that happens enough times, something painful begins to settle in: I am important to people because of what I provide, but I don't know whether anyone actually knows how much I need, too.

That is not simply a sad thought. Chronic loneliness and inadequate emotional support are increasingly recognized as serious public-health concerns. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reports that about one in three U.S. adults feels lonely and about one in four says they do not have adequate social and emotional support. The CDC also makes an important distinction: loneliness is not determined by how many people surround you. A person can have friends, relatives, coworkers, a spouse, and a busy social life and still feel profoundly disconnected. CDC: Social Connection and Health

That distinction matters for women who are always needed.

Sometimes a woman has a support network without actually feeling supported.

Sometimes everybody knows how to find her, but nobody knows how to hold her.

And when there is nowhere safe to put the pain, human beings often become remarkably creative about finding somewhere else to put it.

The private life of “the strong one”

Strength can become an identity long before a woman realizes she chose it.

Sometimes it begins in childhood. She was the oldest daughter, the responsible one, the peacekeeper, the child who learned not to add another problem to an already chaotic household. Maybe she grew up around addiction, conflict, financial instability, illness, neglect, or adults who were consumed with their own problems. Perhaps no one ever directly told her that her feelings were inconvenient; they simply behaved as though there was never enough room for them.

So she adapted.

She learned how to read the room. She learned how to solve problems. She learned to anticipate what other people needed. She became independent because dependence was unreliable.

Those qualities can become tremendous strengths in adulthood. The woman who learned how to survive chaos may become an exceptional mother, entrepreneur, manager, advocate, friend, or community leader. She can handle pressure because pressure is familiar.

But survival skills have a way of following us long after the original emergency ends.

The child who learned, Don't bother anybody with your problems, can become the adult woman crying in the shower so nobody hears her.

The teenager who learned, I'll figure it out myself, can become the woman who refuses help even while resentment grows because nobody helps her.

The young woman who learned that vulnerability could be used against her can become the adult who says, “I'm fine,” so convincingly that everyone believes her.

Eventually, strength can become a trap.

The people around her may reinforce it without meaning to. “Girl, you're the strongest person I know.” “I don't know how you do everything.” “You'll figure it out—you always do.”

Those words are usually intended as compliments. Sometimes, however, what the exhausted woman hears is something else:

Please continue requiring nothing from us.

And so she does.

Until she needs somewhere for everything she is not saying to go.

When coping stops being occasional and starts becoming necessary

Nobody wakes up one morning and casually decides to develop an addiction or compulsive behavior. These patterns are more complicated than that, influenced by biology, environment, mental health, trauma history, access, social conditions, genetics, and individual circumstances. Loneliness does not automatically cause addiction, and trauma does not guarantee substance misuse.

But stress, emotional pain, mental-health struggles, and substance use frequently occupy the same lives.

According to the 2024 National Survey on Drug Use and Health, approximately 48.4 million Americans age 12 and older—16.8% of that population—met criteria for a substance use disorder in the previous year. About 28.2 million had a drug use disorder. Among adults, the overlap between mental illness and substance problems was substantial: approximately 86.6 million adults had either a mental illness or substance use disorder, and 21.2 million experienced both. SAMHSA: 2024 National Survey on Drug Use and Health

Those statistics describe disorders, not every person who pours a glass of wine after work or eats when she is upset. But they make one thing impossible to dismiss: millions of people are living at the intersection of emotional distress and problematic substance use.

For some women, the beginning can look deceptively ordinary.

The glass of wine after a terrible day works.

For twenty minutes, the tension eases. The internal noise softens. Her shoulders drop. She is no longer simultaneously thinking about tomorrow's bills, her child's problem, her friend's crisis, her marriage, work, the person who betrayed her five years ago, her mother's absence, and the seventeen things she forgot to do.

So she does it again.

Not necessarily because she loves alcohol.

Because she loves relief.

That distinction matters.

The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism estimates that 27.9 million Americans age 12 and older had alcohol use disorder in 2024, including approximately 11.2 million females. NIAAA: Alcohol Use Disorder in the United States

Yet our cultural image of alcohol addiction is still frequently someone whose life has visibly collapsed.

That stereotype can hide women who are functioning extraordinarily well.

She still works. Her children are cared for. Her bills are paid. Her house is decent. She makes appointments. She laughs at brunch. She runs the meeting Monday morning. She may even be the person everybody else considers responsible.

But she also knows exactly when she can have that first drink.

There is a difference between enjoying a drink and gradually needing alcohol to regulate emotions. The transition can be subtle enough that the person experiencing it rationalizes the progression for a long time. The question is no longer simply how much she drinks. It is also what role alcohol has begun playing in her emotional life.

Can she tolerate sadness without it?

Can she sleep without it?

Does stress automatically create the urge to drink?

Has she repeatedly tried to reduce her drinking and found that difficult?

Is she hiding how much she consumes?

Are consequences beginning to accumulate?

If alcohol has quietly become the only place where she feels allowed to stop carrying everyone, then the problem is larger than the contents of the glass.

The glass has become a room she escapes into.

Food can become comfort when people have not been

Food is different because human beings must eat, and food carries culture, memory, celebration, pleasure, and connection. Enjoying food is not pathological. Eating something comforting after a difficult day does not mean a person has an eating disorder.

But food can also become emotionally loaded.

Imagine a woman who spends the entire day giving.

She gets everybody where they need to go. She works. She solves problems. She listens to somebody else's crisis. She answers messages. She keeps moving.

Late at night, the house finally becomes quiet.

For the first time all day, nobody is asking anything of her.

She sits down with food.

And that may be one of the only moments when she is actively giving herself something pleasurable.

The experience is predictable. Food does not abandon her. It does not betray her. It does not tell her she is asking for too much. It does not forget to check on her. It does not tell her to call back later because it is busy.

For a little while, she feels comforted.

The problem begins when eating repeatedly becomes one of the primary ways she regulates distress, particularly when episodes involve loss of control, significant shame, or other symptoms of disordered eating.

Binge-eating disorder is a recognized psychiatric condition. National Institute of Mental Health statistics, based on national survey data, estimate lifetime binge-eating disorder prevalence among U.S. adults at 2.8%, with women affected more often than men. NIMH also reports that a substantial portion of adults with binge-eating disorder experience impairment ranging from moderate to severe. These estimates come from older national epidemiological surveys, an important limitation when discussing them today, but they demonstrate that binge eating is not simply a matter of someone “having no discipline.” National Institute of Mental Health: Eating Disorders Statistics

And this is where shame becomes dangerous.

A woman eats because she is lonely. Then she hates herself for eating. Now she is lonely and ashamed. Shame makes her less likely to tell anyone what is happening. Isolation deepens. Eventually another difficult evening arrives, and she reaches again for the thing that gave her relief the last time.

The cycle has begun feeding itself.

Telling her to “just stop eating like that” addresses the visible behavior while ignoring the emotional machinery underneath it.

A more useful question may be: What happens immediately before you feel the need to eat this way?

The answer might be hunger.

But sometimes it is anger.

Sometimes rejection.

Sometimes boredom.

Sometimes betrayal.

Sometimes exhaustion.

And sometimes the honest answer is painfully simple:

I wanted comfort, and I didn't know who to call.

Sex can become another place to disappear

Sex deserves the same level of nuance.

A woman enjoying sex, wanting frequent sex, masturbating, having multiple partners, or having a high libido does not automatically have a psychological disorder. Sexual desire should not be pathologized simply because it makes someone else uncomfortable.

But sexual behavior can become compulsive.

The World Health Organization recognizes Compulsive Sexual Behaviour Disorder in the ICD-11. It involves a persistent pattern of failure to control intense, repetitive sexual impulses or urges resulting in repetitive sexual behavior and significant impairment. Importantly, the WHO classifies it as an impulse-control disorder rather than simply calling it “sex addiction.” World Health Organization: ICD-11 Clinical Descriptions and Diagnostic Requirements

That clinical distinction matters, particularly for women, because female sexuality has historically been subjected to enormous moral judgment.

Sometimes the woman seeking sexual attention is not primarily chasing sex at all.

She may be chasing confirmation.

I'm still attractive.

Somebody wants me.

Somebody sees me.

I'm desirable.

I'm not invisible.

For a woman whose family does not check on her, whose relationship has left her emotionally starved, or whose self-esteem has been damaged by betrayal, sexual attention can deliver an intense temporary feeling of being chosen.

The body interprets closeness even when the relationship cannot provide intimacy.

For an hour she is not the caretaker. She is not the mother, boss, fixer, counselor, provider, or responsible one.

She is wanted.

And then the encounter ends.

The phone gets quiet.

The other person returns to their life.

And she discovers that being desired is not necessarily the same as being loved.

When the loneliness returns, it can feel worse because for a moment she had escaped it.

If she repeatedly returns to sexual behavior despite serious consequences, cannot control the behavior despite trying, or increasingly organizes her life around it, that deserves professional attention—not moral condemnation.

The deeper therapeutic question is often not simply, “Why are you having so much sex?”

It may be:

“What feeling are you trying to create—or escape—when you seek it?”

Drugs can offer something an overwhelmed mind desperately wants: silence

For another woman, the escape is chemical.

She may begin using a substance recreationally. She may have initially received a medication legitimately. She may be introduced to something socially. There is no single path into substance-use disorder.

But emotional relief can become a powerful reinforcer.

For someone whose mind never stops, altered consciousness can feel like mercy.

The thoughts quiet.

The memories recede.

The pressure becomes distant.

The body relaxes.

For a little while, she is not managing anything.

And that may be the first time she has felt free all week.

Again, understanding that mechanism does not minimize the danger. Substance-use disorders can destroy health, relationships, finances, careers, and lives. Overdose remains a major public-health crisis in the United States.

But if we want people to recover, we have to become interested in more than the substance.

We have to become interested in the pain the substance was hired to manage.

Otherwise, treatment can become an endless battle against symptoms while the original wound remains untouched.

The shame-relief cycle

Alcohol, drugs, compulsive sexual behavior, and disordered eating are not interchangeable conditions, and they should not be treated as though they have identical causes or treatments. But there is an emotional pattern that can appear across many forms of maladaptive coping.

Distress creates an urge for relief. The behavior provides temporary relief. Consequences or shame follow. Shame encourages secrecy. Secrecy increases isolation. Isolation creates additional distress.

Now the person needs relief from both the original pain and the shame surrounding the coping behavior.

This is one reason shame is such a terrible recovery strategy.

“You're better than this.”

“You have children.”

“You know better.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Just stop.”

The person often already knows the behavior is hurting her.

What she may not know is how to tolerate the feelings that arrive when she stops.

If you remove the wine, what happens to the grief at 10 p.m.?

If you remove the binge, where does the anxiety go?

If you remove the sexual attention, how does she cope with feeling undesirable?

If you remove the drug, what happens when the memories become loud again?

Successful recovery cannot merely confiscate the anesthetic.

Eventually, it has to address the wound.

What happens when your friends are your family—but you are still the caretaker?

Chosen family can be extraordinarily protective. The CDC identifies social connection and supportive relationships as important contributors to health and well-being, including helping people manage stress, anxiety, and depression. CDC: Social Connection and Health

For women whose biological families are absent or unhealthy, friendship can become sacred.

These are the people who showed up.

The woman who sat in the hospital waiting room.

The friend who brought food.

The one who answered at 2 a.m.

The person who knew what happened in the marriage before anybody else.

The one who watched the children when everything fell apart.

That is family.

DNA does not have exclusive rights to the word.

But there is an important question women who build chosen families should ask themselves: Have I recreated my old role inside my new family?

If you were always the responsible one growing up, are you now the responsible friend?

If nobody took care of you then, have you surrounded yourself with people who also expect you to take care of them now?

Do your friends know your actual life—or primarily the version of you that gives advice about theirs?

Would they recognize that you were falling apart before you had to announce it?

And perhaps the hardest question:

If you stopped being useful tomorrow, which relationships would remain?

That is not a suggestion to test people, disappear, or manipulate friends into proving their loyalty.

It is an invitation to examine reciprocity.

Healthy relationships do not require mathematically equal giving every day. Sometimes one person genuinely needs more support. Life happens.

But over time there should be movement in both directions.

You should be allowed to need.

You should be allowed to receive.

You should be allowed to have a crisis without simultaneously managing everyone else's reaction to your crisis.

Recovery may require retiring from the job of carrying everybody

For women who have built their identities around strength, recovery can be surprisingly uncomfortable because getting healthier often changes relationships.

You begin saying no.

You stop answering every call immediately.

You no longer volunteer to fix things nobody asked you to fix.

You stop lending money that jeopardizes your own stability.

You tell somebody, “I love you, but I don't have the capacity for this conversation tonight.”

You allow adults to experience the consequences of their own decisions.

You stop being everybody's unpaid therapist.

And suddenly people who loved the endlessly available version of you have opinions about the healthier version.

That can hurt.

It can also teach you something.

Boundaries do not necessarily destroy good relationships. Sometimes they expose relationships that depended on you having none.

Recovery also means learning to communicate needs before resentment reaches a boiling point. People cannot reliably respond to needs they have never been allowed to see. If you have spent years saying “I'm fine,” some people may genuinely believe you.

That means part of healing can be painfully simple language:

“I need you to check on me sometimes.”

“I don't need advice tonight. I need somebody to listen.”

“I'm struggling with drinking.”

“I've noticed that I eat when I'm overwhelmed.”

“I've been using sex to feel wanted.”

“I've been using something because I don't want to think.”

“I don't think I'm handling this as well as everybody thinks I am.”

“I need help.”

For somebody accustomed to being the helper, those words can feel more frightening than carrying another fifty pounds.

Say them anyway.

Support is not a luxury

The United States has an enormous treatment gap for substance-use disorders. Federal 2024 data indicate that only about one in five people who were classified as needing substance-use treatment actually received treatment during the year. SAMHSA: 2024 National Survey on Drug Use and Health Release

You do not have to wait for a stereotypical “rock bottom” before seeking help.

Rock bottom is not a medical requirement.

You do not need to lose your marriage before drinking concerns count.

You do not need an overdose before drug use deserves attention.

You do not need your eating behavior to become life-threatening before discussing it with a qualified professional.

You do not have to completely destroy your relationships before acknowledging that sexual behavior feels compulsive.

And you do not need a formal diagnosis before saying:

Something about the way I'm coping scares me.

That sentence is enough to start a conversation.

For substance-use concerns, SAMHSA's National Helpline and treatment resources can connect people in the United States with treatment information. For eating concerns, a licensed clinician or eating-disorder specialist can help distinguish emotional eating from a diagnosable eating disorder and recommend appropriate care. Compulsive sexual behavior likewise deserves assessment by a qualified mental-health professional who understands the condition without moralizing sexuality.

The goal is not to slap a diagnosis onto every coping mechanism.

The goal is to stop waiting until coping becomes catastrophe.

The life underneath the coping

Eventually, after all the research and terminology, this conversation comes back to one woman sitting alone with herself.

Maybe she really did create her own world.

She had to.

Her biological family is not involved. Nobody regularly checks in. Maybe those relationships never existed in the way she needed them to, or perhaps life fractured them along the way.

So her friends became her family.

She created birthdays, dinners, traditions, holidays, vacations, group chats, inside jokes, emergency contacts, and memories. She found people and loved them hard.

There is pride in that.

There should be.

But she cannot build an entire village and then volunteer to be its infrastructure.

She cannot continue being everybody's source of emotional oxygen while suffocating privately.

And she cannot keep calling self-destruction “coping” simply because it allows her to function tomorrow.

At some point, the question changes from How do I keep carrying all of this? to Why am I carrying all of this in the first place?

Some things belong to other adults.

Some responsibilities can be shared.

Some relationships need boundaries.

Some grief needs professional help.

Some family relationships may need to be mourned instead of endlessly chased.

Some friendships need to become reciprocal.

And some secrets need to be spoken somewhere safe.

Perhaps that is the most difficult part of healing for the woman who has always been strong: realizing that strength was supposed to be one of her qualities, not her permanent job description.

She is allowed to be tired.

She is allowed to be angry that nobody noticed.

She is allowed to grieve the family she wishes she had.

She is allowed to love the friends who became her family while asking more from those relationships.

She is allowed to admit that the thing she started doing “just to take the edge off” has become something she cannot comfortably control.

She is allowed to seek treatment before anybody else thinks the problem is serious enough.

Most importantly, she is allowed to stop proving her worth through endurance.

Because perhaps the opposite of addiction is not simply abstinence, restraint, discipline, or control.

For many people, part of recovery is learning how to remain present when life hurts—and discovering that they no longer have to remain present alone.

The woman everybody calls deserves somebody she can call.

The woman who remembers everybody else's pain deserves people who remember hers.

The woman who created a family out of friendship deserves to experience that family as more than another group of people she has to hold together.

And the woman who has spent years silencing herself with alcohol, food, sex, drugs, work, or any other form of escape deserves something far more substantial than another temporary way not to feel.

She deserves a life in which feeling does not have to be survived in secret.

She deserves support that does not have to be earned.

She deserves relationships in which she is loved when she is useful and when she is not.

She deserves to discover who she is when she is no longer performing strength for everybody in the room.

Maybe that is the real work now.

Not becoming stronger.

She has been strong long enough.

Learning that she is allowed to be held, too.

Healing isn't always graceful—but you can still move forward with grace.

Grace Forward Collective