Vulnerability

Over the past year I read two powerful books on vulnerability both written by Brene Brown, Ph. D., LMSW: Daring Greatly and Rising Strong. Prior to reading, I understood vulnerability at a fundamental level, but didn’t understand just how relevant the concept was to so many situations in my own life.

For those who don’t plan on purchasing these books, or have a kick-ass therapist and supervisor willing to lend them out as I did, here are a few quick takeaways from Daring Greatly:

Vulnerability and shame are deeply interwoven. Shame is the fear of disconnection. We feel disconnected when we feel unworthy. Connection, along with love and belonging are why we are here, and it is what gives our lives purpose and meaning. Vulnerability is uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure. In the context of love, vulnerability is waking up every day and loving someone who may or may not love us back, whose safety we can’t ensure, who may stay in our lives or may leave without a moment’s notice, who may be loyal to the day they die or betray us tomorrow

Everyone should have a short list of people whose opinions truly matter. That list of people should consist only of those who love you and believe in you unconditionally. For me, that tiny list is my mom, God, my grandma, my mentors, my best friend, my therapist, and my little sister. However, when it comes to being vulnerable, what proves to be the one of the biggest hindrances are the opinions and perceived criticism of those who do not matter. That ever-expanding list of mine includes the girls that were mean to me growing up, a potential future employer, my 6th grade teacher, anyone who knew me prior to my tragedy, and anyone who ever told me to my face or behind my back that I wasn’t good enough.

Daring greatly isn’t about winning or losing, it’s about having the courage to get out there and do. And being ourselves takes risk, and battling with with both external and internal forces.

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I do not believe I had a problem with vulnerability growing up, In fact, looking at my life from the outside in, I would say that I could be the poster child for Daring Greatly. I didn’t let fear stand in my way from raising my hand in class, volunteering to be the flyer in cheerleading, proudly dancing center stage when I knew I had the technique of a 4 year old, and running for class office year after year. I was a leader and I believed in myself so strongly that each time I put myself in a vulnerable situation, it propelled me into the next one. I didn’t fear vulnerability because I thought I was the shit.

As I got older, the mental turmoil that ensued in vulnerable situations drastically increased. I continued to practice vulnerability, but the voice in my head that told me I was unworthy grew louder, and louder, and louder. In fact, if you could picture the graph I have mapped in my mind, you would see a direct correlation of my age increasing and my confidence decreasing. Taking this at an even nerdy-er level, there is a baseline of “to do [the vulnerable action], or not to do” At this present moment, my ability to do is tip-toeing right above it.

For those who do not think in charts and graphs, here are a few of my real-life examples.

1. The Reality: I am a maker. I can turn old clothes into stuffed animals. I can print out a picture and paint it with striking resemblance on a canvas. I can take a picture of a restaurant and digitally alter it to create a menu that is both eye-catching and aesthetically pleasing.

The Story I Tell Myself: People buy the bears and share my posts because they feel bad for me. They don’t actually want to buy them from me, but if they are needed, I am chosen because I am convenient. The bar managers that hire me to do freelance work do so not because I do a good job, but because they can’t afford to hire a real designer, and I am cheap.

2. The Reality: In the past year, I have spoken on stages at events ranging from 50-300 people, and on a panel that was recorded and turned into a podcast. Since then, I have been asked to be interviewed solo on that podcast, to speak on two other panels, and to give speeches at several other events. I have been praised, I brought people to tears. I write about topics straight from the core of my heart. Although I say I write for myself, I have hundreds of messages from people who told me I inspired them in some way.

The Story I Tell Myself: The organizers that ask me to speak felt badly for me. I am one of few willing to share my experiences, and although I’m not a captivating speaker, they just want someone to tell Lauren’s story. I did not do a good job, but people are generally nice, so they praise me for my work out of pity. If I was actually a captivating speaker or writer, people would be left speechless. Finally, X and X and X are reading my most personal articles together, laughing.

I could go on for days with examples about my career, my friendships, my other side hustles. I am reminded that I am exceptional in the form of reviews, feedback, and unconditional love. But in each situation, I look for signs, and tell myself stories that others are displeased by me, that I suck. And that folks, is the price I pay for being vulnerable.

So why doesn’t that stop me?

I continue to press on not because of the confidence gained from the previous vulnerable moment, but because I want to continue the journey of finding the confidence I lost along the way.

When I began writing this article, I had intended for it to be a guide on how to live a more fulfilling life through the power of vulnerability. But it quickly took a nose dive into a pit of self-reflection. Despite the mental turmoil vulnerability causes me, I need you to take me, and Brene Brown, at our word: Vulnerability is a necessary evil. I can answer with confidence that I would rather face the rumble in my head before, during, and after each moment of vulnerability than look back 20 years from now wondering how my life could be different had I just taken that one chance to be brave. I took a moment to think about what my life would look without vulnerability, but frankly, it is intertwined so deeply within myself, I wouldn’t know where to begin.

I am a work in progress. I can’t close this article with a story on how vulnerability made me a bazillionaire with a life at the peak of fulfillment, and how the same life could be yours. I can’t even guarantee that the doubt and fear will ever go away. But I do know that I will continue to press on, to be brave when I fear the most, to try my best to silence the negative thoughts and stories I tell myself. Because my moments of vulnerability have been the most rewarding. They have given my life purpose and meaning. They created my strongest connections. They made me the person I am today. And right now in this present moment, I am happy.