Strong, But Not Okay: Mental Health in the Lives of Albanian Women
There’s a quiet strength in the women I work with—especially the Albanian women. Many of us grew up learning to keep our heads down, our voices soft, and our pain hidden. We were told to be strong, to sacrifice, to carry the family’s needs before our own. And while these messages were often wrapped in love or survival, they’ve come at a cost to our mental health.
Over the years—both in my clinical work and in my own life—I’ve seen patterns emerge. Women who appear high-functioning but are deeply anxious. Mothers who pour every ounce of energy into their families, but feel chronically empty inside. Young women torn between traditional expectations and modern pressures, quietly battling depression, disconnection, or self-doubt.
Let’s talk about it.
1. The pressure to be everything to everyone
Albanian women are often raised to be caregivers, peacekeepers, providers, and protectors—all at once. There’s an unspoken expectation to be strong, unbreakable. Vulnerability is seen as weakness. And so, we bury our struggles. We show up to work, to family gatherings, to weddings and funerals—smiling, even when we’re silently drowning.
But the truth is: strength isn’t about never falling apart. It’s about having the courage to look inward and say, I’m not okay—and I need support.
2. Living between two worlds
Many Albanian women in the diaspora live in a kind of emotional limbo. One foot in the values of our families—tradition, loyalty, community. The other in the culture we’ve grown up or moved into—independence, self-expression, choice. It’s not easy to navigate. For some, it creates shame or confusion. For others, a feeling of not belonging anywhere fully.
This tug-of-war can lead to anxiety, isolation, or identity struggles that are often misunderstood—even within our own communities.
3. Intergenerational trauma and silence
Many of our mothers and grandmothers endured war, poverty, oppression, or silence around abuse. They didn’t have the space or permission to process what happened to them. And while they may not have talked about it, we carry the emotional imprint. The anxiety, the hypervigilance, the grief—it trickles down.
I often say: We are carrying our own wounds and the ones of the previous generations.
Healing doesn’t mean blaming our families—it means understanding our stories and learning to rewrite them.
4. The stigma around mental health
Even now, in 2025, many Albanian women still feel ashamed to say they’re struggling. Therapy is seen by some as “only for the crazy” or “not something we do.” But mental health struggles are human—not shameful. And seeking support is one of the bravest things you can do for yourself, and for the generations that come after you.
If you’re reading this and it resonates with you—know that you are not alone. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself. At ACMH, we create a space where Albanian women can speak freely, without judgment, and begin to reconnect with parts of themselves they may have had to silence.
You deserve healing. You deserve softness. You deserve to take up space—not just for others, but for yourself.
With warmth,
Dr. Arela Agako
Founder, Albanian Canadian Mental Health
