The walls I built up did not come down easily. They were
effective for sure, and they kept out the pain I wanted to avoid, but they were
deceptive. They were quietly betraying me. The problem with a wall is that,
while it keeps out bad things, it also keeps out good things.
When I told Jeremy back in 2006 that I was not interested in
dating him, it was because of a wall intended to keep out heartbreak or being
let down.
When I decided that I would not care at all about anyone’s
approval or opinions (e.g. emotionally “shut down”), it was because of a wall
intended to keep out the pain of disapproval and not being “good enough.”
When I kept friends at a distance, not letting anyone get
too close, it was because of a wall intended to keep out people who might
betray my trust or not come through for me.
And as with a lot of things, what starts out as a good
intention or idea, when not kept in check, turns into something that controls
you in the end. There’s wisdom in not over-valuing other people’s opinions,
seeking their approval, bearing your innermost soul to everyone you meet, etc.
But what I didn’t realize at those times was that in protecting myself this way
-- in not being vulnerable at all -- I was cutting myself off from really
important relationships.
Vulnerability gets a bad rap. It feels like a thing that
weak people do. Like it’s a really good way to set yourself up. Maybe it seems
foolish. Maybe it’s not a thing for a “strong, independent” woman to do. Those
are all things I’ve thought. But I have to say, I have experienced the MOST joy
when I have chosen (and it IS absolutely a choice) to be vulnerable.
It is so hard. So, so hard to tear that wall down and take a
chance on people. People have let me down, yes (and I let them down, too, let’s
not forget…). But how beautiful is it when you have people who value each other
enough to give/take that chance, experience the pain and the joy, and push
through it together? Growing together. Learning together. Forgiving and moving
forward together.
To love is to be vulnerable. And I mean all types of love --
friendship, compassion, romantic -- they all, when done best, require
vulnerability. The possibility of pain and hurt. But also the possibility of
great joy and love. (For more about what these types of love look like, read
The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis!)
Vulnerability. Taking down the wall. Letting someone in.
Letting yourself OUT. Saying, “This might hurt. But I’m going to do it anyway
because life is about more than sitting safely behind my wall.”
I think that, in reality, vulnerability is strong and
courageous. It’s brave. You must be brave to risk potentially being hurt. You
must be strong to endure pain. If you don’t bend, you will break. Vulnerability
is letting yourself bend or be bent.
Brene Brown says, “Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels
like courage. Truth and courage aren't always comfortable, but they're never
weakness.”
So to make it personal, what has becoming a vulnerable
person look like for me?
One big way I’ve seen myself changing is choosing
forgiveness over bitterness. Forgiving the ones who hurt me, whether they know
it or not. Whether they care or not. Also, apologizing when I am the one in
need of forgiveness. My first response is usually defensiveness. Excusing myself
or explaining myself instead of just saying… yeah, I shouldn’t have done that.
It takes a lot of strength to forgive, but it frees you from living in the
past/in a negative space.
A second thing was having kids. Becoming a parent was a huge
risk! Every bit of parenting so far in my long span of four years as a mom has
been opening up my heart and life to HUGE emotions and changes.
Another of the more difficult changes for me in being
vulnerable is having real, deep, meaningful friendships and the conversations
that go along with those. Being real, asking hard questions, and giving honest
answers. Letting people get to know you, be in your space, and being in theirs.
And I’m not talking about cleaning up your house and having a dinner party. And
it’s not painting on a smile or distracting yourself with fun things to avoid
the real issues. I mean sitting in a messy living room with a friend and crying
together into your coffee.
I am a really bad verbal communicator. I can write stuff all
day, but having eye-to-eye conversations, especially uncomfortable ones, is
really difficult for me. I almost choke on the words as I’m trying to talk
through tears of anxiety. So, in the past, I would just avoid those
conversations and pretend I was fine. That might work ok with people you don’t
see very often, but it doesn’t really work in marriage or in close friendships.
Well, if you don’t talk about things, they don’t go away.
For me, they just built up and built up and then eventually, I couldn’t contain
it all anymore. And the big, ugly mess that would spill out was … not pleasant.
I had to really work on being vulnerable in the area of
having hard conversations, whether it was addressing an issue that was
bothering me or admitting that I was wrong in some way. Rather than ignoring
it, I would start by sitting down with Jeremy (or whoever), taking a deep
breath, and usually starting out something like, “I’m probably going to cry,
but I’m not mad. This is just hard for me. I need to talk to you about
something that is on my heart right now. I’m not blaming you or saying it’s all
your fault. I just want us to talk about it together.”
And earlier I mentioned forgiveness. This is a big one! I am
nowhere near “good to go” on this. But I have torn down some ugly walls of
bitterness in my life and started to be more vulnerable in mending the
relationships with those people. No one is perfect. And by recognizing that and
purposefully spending time with those people and seeking to have a real
friendship, I have found a lot of freedom.
If this is as hard for you as it was for me, here’s a tiny
bit of encouragement: it gets easier with practice! The first step is to just
do it. I think of the walls as physical objects that need to be torn down. And
you just have to start.
Comments
Post a Comment