I am tired of being the strong one in every room

Dear Delyara, I am the manager of a team of forty people. I am the eldest brother who handles the family estate. I am the friend who people call at midnight when their marriages are falling apart. Everyone tells me I am an anchor. But tonight, my car broke down on the side of the motorway in the pouring rain, and when the recovery driver asked me how my day was going, my jaw started shaking so badly I couldn't speak. I had to roll up the window and sit in the dark while the rain hammered the roof, screaming until my throat felt like it was bleeding. I am furious at a world that expects an anchor to never tire of being dragged through the mud at the bottom of the sea. They just expect it to hold. I don't want to hold anymore.