What do you think of when you ponder vulnerability? It always made me feel squeamish, antsy. . . ready to turn on my heels. I am a child of a feminist, strong and mighty; I am an only, out on my own and blazing trails for future generations. Hear me roar.
There's not a lot of room to be vulnerable when your sole purpose is to hide weakness. If you haven't noticed, I'm working on that. It's why I share. . . so maybe you will too.
I had a powerful experience at school this week. New semester and, thankfully, new faces (with such a small cohort it's nice to meet a fresh perspective). I'm enrolled in a Group Counseling course and thanks to the workings of a genius professor, it began with an opportunity to share prefaced with the idea that, in any group environment, there are sweet and bitter things about the setting. Sometimes it's having a loudmouth next to you, hoarding the time allotted; working with others who are closed off causing you to lose interest that the experience can be healing. It's complicated, but it can be oh-so-good depending on your willingness to relent.
And that's just it. The first go 'round of introductions had most folks using caution when addressing what made THEM bitter and sweet. Christ, who wouldn't have hesitation?! Being authentic in such a setting is so hard, after all "What will people think of me?" or "Am I worthy of being listened to?" I've been working on my own authenticity for months, maybe even a year, thanks to a wonderful therapist who has had me, in the words of the great Brene Brown, "lean into the discomfort." For so long, I've been afraid that if I am anything but agreeable, amiable, friendly and inclusive, people will leave me.
It's true. Do you struggle too?
And so, when it was my turn, I threw myself into the discomfort (which isn't so hard anymore). I told this group of folks whom I know only from a safe classroom/textbook environment, that I binge, I'm hard on myself (and therefore hard on others, mostly internally), and I'm taking medication to help me cope with depression. Oh, and I feel great about it. Really great. What's sweet about me is that I am growing into my courage. Again, quoting Brown, I am increasingly able to "tell the story of who [I am} with my own heart."
What's bitter? Please, I still have high expectations. But as I go easier on myself, it expands into allowing me to have really close relationships that make me really happy. And good grief, this is a process. I don't know if I'll ever be fully evolved, but I know the relief that is sharing, like getting used to the cold water you've just jumped into, gets better over time. Especially if the pool is already peppered with folks doing the same.
Great posts lately. And I'm proud of you for being so brave. I know how hard that is. I remember when I first blogged about going through depression and I was sobbing as I wrote the post. What surprised me was how much better I felt when I finally got it out there. A) it allowed me to be open to the love and support of those around me (and let them know that I needed it!) and B) struggling with depression was hard enough, having to struggle to keep it secret too was just too much. I think and hope that you will find that by opening up about all this stuff that it makes it easier to deal with.
ReplyDeleteNever be afraid to dance and/or sing in public. I cannot sing, nor can I dance but neither of these limitations stop me from breaking out into either in a park, a big box store and even at work.
ReplyDeleteI don't need to share with you 20 years of struggling with depression. You know what it did to me. You experienced it. It is the past, though I struggle to keep it buried there. But I cannot deny that it is a very large part of who I am. I have tried this denial and it doesn't work. I do not celebrate it, but I accept it in the past. In the present, I make ever effort to kick its ass. But I struggle. When you feel depressed, dance.
One word of caution, and perhaps this will bring fire upon me from the blogosphrere. There is a thing as sharing too much, my friend. With all of the social media out there, you can share with people when you're laughing, or crying, or cooking or having an "oh my goodness" bowel movement. There is such a thing as giving the world too much. I have learned to be more of a sniper rifle than a howitzer. I share with people I trust and love. People don't need to see my dirty skivvies or even know IF I'm wearing skivvies. Yes, being vulnerable is good because it's not until we are in these moments that we can grow. If you want to share, write a novel, *wink wink* *nudge nudge*. Your life and your essence are precious, friend. Please remember to treat them as such.
From a different perspective, maybe try being vulnerable with the good stuff. Share with people your magic, your victories in life and even more importantly, your dreams. The amazing thing about sharing your dreams is that you never know who will be able to help you reach them. People often fear sharing their dreams for a number of reasons. They don't want to sound crazy. They don't want to sound unrealistic. More than anything, they are afraid of their dreams coming true.
ReplyDeleteOh, but I want to squeeze you tight right now. Your courage and authenticity astounds me daily. Maybe even hourly.
ReplyDeleteThe fact is, we all present an image to the outside world of how we want to be viewed, but it is much harder to recognize our own issues and shortcomings. Even harder still, is having the willingness to share that part of ourselves with the world at large. I commend you, my darling friend, for letting people in and sharing your struggles. It takes an incredible amount of emotional strength to do so.