Vulnerability is Courageous - But It's Also a Need for Community
I needed truth. I needed to be held. I needed to be seen.
I’ve always been vulnerable as fuck. It’s never scared me to be. It’s never been awkward for me to share my pains, trials, struggles, in fact it’s more awkward for me to pretend to share the things that aren’t real - it’s probably why I suck at acting and highly struggled in an improv class that I tried to take in my younger years. I just don’t know how to be anything but myself.
People have asked me to teach them how to be vulnerable, which I’ve also found interesting because what it tells me is that you are having a hard time being yourself, which underneath that might mean that you don’t know who your “self” is, or someone or something has made you feel that your “self” is not acceptable, you haven’t been made to feel safe in who you are - in your vulnerability - and that I find more heartbreaking.
Vulnerability isn’t something I could say I know how to teach. I don’t know what I’m doing per se that makes me come off as “so vulnerable.” I don’t know how to make it tactile and wrap it up in another 90 day program.
Possibly vulnerability is a choice and you either choose to be vulnerable or you choose to stay behind the walls you’ve built to protect your heart. Neither is right or wrong. But the latter won’t get you closer to love. And I’ve always wanted to be closer to love.
I like everyone else always wanted to receive love, but you grow up, and realize that the more love you give is the easier it becomes to receive. I’m currently in a stage of focusing more on how I give love than berating others on how I want to receive love. This too comes with spiritual maturity. I fumble everyday.
I can’t even tell you that I woke up one day and chose vulnerability. I think what I chose was not wanting to accept loneliness.
I think I had gone through some shit and was like “fuck, there’s no one I can talk to about this that isn’t looking at me with pity eyes and I ain’t trying to be pitied. I don’t want to hear another person say “I’m so sorry you had to go through that” or “you don’t look like someone who has gone through that” or “I’m so proud of you for leaving” or “why did you stay?””
I wanted to have conversations with people about why I stayed, and they look back at me with understanding and grace because maybe they stayed to. I wanted to have conversations with people about the deception, and the fear, and the loneliness, and the love that might still be there, and the picking up the pieces, and the rebuilding, and the what now? And the restoring. And the trying again. And the loving again.
I needed truth. I needed to be held. I needed to be seen. Understood. I thought “I can’t be the only bish that’s gone through this.”
That’s what made me share my story. That’s what makes me continue to share stories. The fear of loneliness outweighed the courage it would take to share and be vulnerable. It was never a thought. I just needed community.
Reflecting on vulnerability and you, here are some journal prompts to dive deeper:
When was the last time you let yourself be truly vulnerable with someone? How did it feel?
What fears or beliefs stop you from being vulnerable? Where do those come from?
Who in your life has made you feel safe enough to show up as your true self? What about them created that safety?
What walls have you built to protect your heart? How do they serve you, and how might they be holding you back?
Is there a part of your story that you’re afraid to share? What would it take to release that fear?
If you could have one conversation where you felt completely understood, what would you talk about?
I love you,
Til next time,
Tash xo
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