Saturday, December 14, 2013

to be vulnerable is to be courageous

"You can choose comfort or you can choose courage. You can't have both."
~ Brene Brown

 Finding yourself in a place where all pretences and facades have been stripped away - where compartmentalization is no longer an option - is quite possibly the most humbling experience a human being can have. To be raw, unguarded, and exposed is excruciatingly painful, yet I'm learning that maybe this is how we're meant to live.

At least I'm learning that maybe this is how I am meant to live.

Vulnerability is uncomfortable. It is awkward, wearisome, and at times, downright distressing.



As I write this, I'm in a very vulnerable state. I feel naked, laid bare, and exposed before so many people. Everything that I used to hide has now been brought into the light. I'm not just talking a single person's flashlight, either.

Part of embracing vulnerability has been a choice on my part. It started months ago when I began to let the walls down, little by little, experiencing emotions that I'd kept locked away for years - sitting with those feelings in the presence of another person. It started when I learned that leaning in to discomfort was the only way I was going to make any progress. In the past, I've come up against situations and circumstances similar to the ones I've been facing recently, and instead of opening up, I've shut down. Instead of leaning into and onto my supports, I've run away.

It has appeared, though, that throughout the course of these last few months, there have been a number of situations that have literally brought me to my knees. It's been a form of vulnerability that I have fought against, but in the end, I lost the fight. It felt compelled and involuntary - and yet I still had a choice. I always have a choice. Would I be honest - revealing the darkest parts of myself, the parts that terrify even me - or would I cling to the pretence that I had everything under control, even though there was plenty of evidence to the contrary?

I chose honesty. I chose to embrace vulnerability even though it hurt like hell.

I've reached the point of pure exhaustion. I am drained of both physical and emotional energy, and I am void of the ability to compartmentalize. I can no longer keep all the areas of my life wrapped up neat and tidy in their own little boxes - separate. I can no longer maintain composure when I'm being overwhelmed with emotion; it spills out whether I'd like it to or not. I'm afraid of this place because it feels chaotic and out of control. It feels like I'm spinning out, but the reality is, I'm right where I need to be.

In times of deep pain and hurt, vulnerability feels terrible while simultaneously bringing great relief. People see you. Some people know you. Those people love you.


When I show up by bringing my full self to the table (both figuratively and literally), I'm actively choosing to engage in real relationships. I'm choosing to allow people the honour of walking alongside of me, rather than at arm's length. I'm choosing to allow them to hold up my arms when I don't have any strength left. I'm choosing to allow them to fight on my behalf, because they know my battles. They are intimately acquainted with my enemies, even if they may not fully understand them.

In embracing vulnerability, I have seen more people really show up for me than ever before. I think that's because I'm showing up for them.

By embracing vulnerability, I have learned that I am not alone, no matter how alone I may feel.

It may be uncomfortable, awkward, messy, and distressing, but moreso, it's refreshing, satisfying, and invaluable.

To be vulnerable is to be courageous. 
 
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