One of the most fear-inducing situations to be in is one of vulnerability. We go to extreme lengths to avoid it at all costs. We’re willing to lie to ourselves about what we want, who we really are, what our true intentions are. We close our eyes, shift truths, sabotage ourselves, reinforce defenses.
To be vulnerable is first and foremost to be honest with ourselves. It’s to voluntarily disarm our own defenses and shine light to those festering things we’d rather leave unclaimed in the dark. It’s to fully own up to our shame, our hopes, our insecurities, our fears.
Then to act upon this vulnerability is to expose the very stuff we are made of. Bare our bones, face judgment and rejection. Understand the risks, fight for what we want. Surrender control and hope. Open ourselves up to the possibility that what will happen next will break and remake who we are. To embrace vulnerability is to be made aware of our own fragility and powerlessness. It comes with internal struggle and emotional turmoil - and that is fucking terrifying.
It’s understandable why we would be afraid, why the mere thought makes us want to instead strengthen our defenses. We walk around with built-in security systems designed to find anything that may threaten exposure, to protect us from those who may be getting too close. We focus our energy constructing an attractive, protective, perfect vision of who we are. It’s almost too easy to be someone we’re not, to fall into a routine of distracting ourselves from ourselves. We drink, party, fuck, shop, fall fast and hard into romances that have no substance. Do things for the momentary thrill of escape, for those few moments we can forget ourselves.
The consequence of exchanging vulnerability for an illusory perception of who we are is that we become a hazard to ourselves. It’s an act of betrayal when we shut out parts of ourselves, especially the parts that we are afraid of. We leave the scary bits to fester, grow, and become something unrecognizable within us while indulging in a false sense of security.
One of my favorite songs has the lyrics, “But a prayer without belief is like a pill without relief so I'll just save us both the letting down.” Being vulnerable means opening yourself up to others, being able to ask for help, being honest with those around you. Being able to let others into your life instead of hiding behind walls and trying to never let anyone down with who you really are. Being vulnerable takes courage, and nothing about this is easy. But the things that make us feel vulnerable and scared are often the things that define who we are.
And to turn our backs on that is to exist in an anesthetized and stagnant state of being.
This past year has been marked by vulnerability. At times, it left me scared, defenseless, exhausted, exposed, defeated, raw, and unnerved. I look back and realize I had a choice every step of the way. I could either take a long, hard look at myself and own and expose my demons within or I could continue to withdraw and protect myself.
And I have finally chosen vulnerability.
We can all pretend, but the parts we’ve locked and vaulted away will still be there waiting for us. So be vulnerable, it will be alright. There’s no regret in being true to who we are, fighting for what is really important to us and evolving into who we were truly meant to be.
To be vulnerable is first and foremost to be honest with ourselves. It’s to voluntarily disarm our own defenses and shine light to those festering things we’d rather leave unclaimed in the dark. It’s to fully own up to our shame, our hopes, our insecurities, our fears.
Then to act upon this vulnerability is to expose the very stuff we are made of. Bare our bones, face judgment and rejection. Understand the risks, fight for what we want. Surrender control and hope. Open ourselves up to the possibility that what will happen next will break and remake who we are. To embrace vulnerability is to be made aware of our own fragility and powerlessness. It comes with internal struggle and emotional turmoil - and that is fucking terrifying.
It’s understandable why we would be afraid, why the mere thought makes us want to instead strengthen our defenses. We walk around with built-in security systems designed to find anything that may threaten exposure, to protect us from those who may be getting too close. We focus our energy constructing an attractive, protective, perfect vision of who we are. It’s almost too easy to be someone we’re not, to fall into a routine of distracting ourselves from ourselves. We drink, party, fuck, shop, fall fast and hard into romances that have no substance. Do things for the momentary thrill of escape, for those few moments we can forget ourselves.
The consequence of exchanging vulnerability for an illusory perception of who we are is that we become a hazard to ourselves. It’s an act of betrayal when we shut out parts of ourselves, especially the parts that we are afraid of. We leave the scary bits to fester, grow, and become something unrecognizable within us while indulging in a false sense of security.
One of my favorite songs has the lyrics, “But a prayer without belief is like a pill without relief so I'll just save us both the letting down.” Being vulnerable means opening yourself up to others, being able to ask for help, being honest with those around you. Being able to let others into your life instead of hiding behind walls and trying to never let anyone down with who you really are. Being vulnerable takes courage, and nothing about this is easy. But the things that make us feel vulnerable and scared are often the things that define who we are.
And to turn our backs on that is to exist in an anesthetized and stagnant state of being.
This past year has been marked by vulnerability. At times, it left me scared, defenseless, exhausted, exposed, defeated, raw, and unnerved. I look back and realize I had a choice every step of the way. I could either take a long, hard look at myself and own and expose my demons within or I could continue to withdraw and protect myself.
And I have finally chosen vulnerability.
We can all pretend, but the parts we’ve locked and vaulted away will still be there waiting for us. So be vulnerable, it will be alright. There’s no regret in being true to who we are, fighting for what is really important to us and evolving into who we were truly meant to be.
