The Strength of Vulnerabilty

I've been working on this post for weeks, but I can't quite seem to get my words right. The idea of vulnerability has been on my mind ever since one of my teachers mentioned that being vulnerable is actually showing strength. That really took me aback. Strength in vulnerability? Isn't that contradictory? Our society values strength. And to many people, strength means emotional disengagement. It means not crying. Not showing any "bad" emotions. You can't seem needy, because you need to be independent. But is that truly strength?

I hate being vulnerable. Which is ironic, because as a social worker, I kind of demand that my clients be vulnerable. I can't help them as effectively if I don't know what's really going on. But I'm a hypocrite. I struggle opening up to others. I HATE letting people see me cry or letting them know I'm struggling. But if I'm not open and real, people can't help me. And they want to. Which is something I struggle to realize sometimes. But it's HARD to be vulnerable. There's an inherent risk in being vulnerable. You may get rejected. And rejection SUCKS... no matter if it's going in for a hug and the person turning away or telling a guy you like him and him not reciprocating the feeling. It's even worse when the person who rejects you has been let in past your "walls" and seen your not-so-pretty sides. It's also hard because, as a friend recently expressed to me, "I don't like telling people things because I don't know what they'll do with the information." Once you open yourself up, you have no idea what will happen. People may then reject you because they've seen an imperfect you. They may break your trust by sharing this personal information. So why on earth would you want to be vulnerable? Why on earth would you let people past your defenses and walls when you've been burned before?

For me, it's because I crave closeness. But it's more than that. I've come to realize that the only times I've grown has been times I've been vulnerable. The only time I've had valuable friendships is when I open up and let them see parts of me that I don't necessarily want them to see. (That's partially why I've been so close and had such good relationships with my roommates this year... I've been vulnerable with them.) The only time I feel close to God is when I pour my heart out to Him... all my pains, hurts, and desires. He can then direct me because I am being vulnerable and open. If I close myself off by not expressing myself, I become hardened. This applies in other relationships, too--when I close myself off from feeling the "bad" emotions, I can't very well feel the "good" ones. I end up floating through life, because I don't really feel anything. Which is hard for me. I, of course, want to feel the "good" emotions. I want to be happy, excited, fulfilled, hopeful, loved. But I've come to the realization, I can't feel those emotions if I don't also allow myself to feel sadness, pain, hurt, misery, frustration, and anger. It sucks sometimes. But if I close myself off to the "bad" emotions, then I can't feel the "good" ones. So when I let myself feel the not-so-fun emotions, and when I express them to others, I start to FEEL again. I stop floating through life and I feel needed and wanted. I feel connected. I'm someone who wants connection. Someone who CRAVES it. (It causes serious problems if I'm not careful.) But when I'm floating through life like that, I feel useless. There's not point for me in life if I'm not connected.

But I don't know how to balance the line of being connected and not getting hurt. And that's why vulnerability sucks. If you risk being connected, you risk getting hurt. But if you don't risk getting hurt, you'll never be connected. You'll never truly feel close to anyone. You feel alone. Lost. Unnoticed. Forgotten. And that's one of the deepest hells I've ever experienced.

That's why vulnerability isn't weakness. It's an incredible strength. Because by showing vulnerability, you can become connected. You can be supported. You can feel LOVE.

But being vulnerable is still a hard thing for me to do. Even when I sense an opportunity to be vulnerable, I generally shy away. Shut down. Gloss over. Run away. But I just end up making myself more miserable. Because I want that connection. I want that closeness. I want that love. I experienced that a bit in my group class today. Some people were really opening up and being vulnerable... and I just didn't know how. I just shied away and shut down for pretty much the rest of class. A few of my friends could tell that something was wrong, but I didn't know what to say. So I just sat there and listened as other people expressed their difficulties in opening up, but not relating my stories to them and expressing empathy.

However... My dad recently made the point that good things come only by opening up. Hunger is solved by opening your mouth. Misunderstandings can be solved by opening your ears. Loneliness is solved by opening your heart. But it's hard. Opening up requires risk. What if you don't like what you end up putting in your mouth? What if you don't like what you hear? What if people you open up to make you more lonely?

But what if it does work out? What if you can be happier than you could ever imagine if you just risk a little?

I was able to experience that tonight with a friend. I hadn't talked to this friend for a while and was kind of hurt and feeling kind of insecure about things. But I ended up putting some stuff out on the table that I never really thought I would express. And it ended up being a really good experience and I feel so much more at peace. Because the idea of vulnerability has obviously been on my mind, I was even able to relate it sort of to the massage I also got today. (By the way.... treating yourself to a massage after midterms is an excellent idea.) Maybe it's not the best example, but it kind of makes sense to me. I remember the first time I got a massage and it was so weird to me and I probably kept more clothes on than was necessary. But those massages weren't as effective because it's the exposure (and thus the vulnerability) that heals. A massage therapist won't be able to work my muscles as well if I have clothes over my skin and don't say what hurts and needs to be worked on. My friends and family don't know how to help me if I try to cover up my wounds in an effort to not be vulnerable. But if I risk, tell them what hurts, and show them a bit of my pain, then they can "massage" me in a way, and sort of help me to start on a path to heal those wounds. Granted, sometimes it's going to be painful and hard. But in the long run, that vulnerability does tend to help more than hurt.

I'm not saying it's a good idea to spew all your inner workings over anyone who happens to be near. But you can be real with those around you. Let down the facade a bit. And you can carefully select a few to truly open up to. It's a cathartic and healing experience. At least for me.

In conclusion... I don't know how much sense this made. But being vulnerable is hard. It's easier to not feel because it's not fun to sit in the really uncomfortable emotions that we want to avoid. It's tempting to avoid. To compartmentalize. To pretend nothing is wrong. But it always catches up to me. And that's why I NEED to be vulnerable, to truly feel like I'm living. I need to take the bad with the good. Because the good can be so sweet.

Vulnerability IS strength. I'm stronger when I'm vulnerable because I'm connected and because I'm better able to feel. Being vulnerable isn't being weak... it's the strongest and bravest thing someone can do. And I'm hoping to become stronger.