Something I'd like to fess up to: you may think I'm incredible at being vulnerable, but I'm really not.
What? I'm reading this personal blog post right now - how does she not think she's vulnerable?
Trust me. I'm not.
I have a little secret: everything I've ever posted here, to Instagram and probably ever shared with you (even if you're my real-life friend), is something I've already worked through.
Okay, as a human being, I'm always a work in progress and many, many (okay, most) things in life are cyclical in nature, so maybe it's not all fully cured or healed or released, but I have a pretty good handle or understanding of it. AKA there's peace.
Seldom will you ever catch me throwing out some unfinished business... not even in real life.When a friend visited me from out of town recently, I realized how much I hold back on openly sharing or admitting my personal struggles. Why is it so hard to share now, when I know when it's all over, I'll tell everyone all about it? What inside of me is so scared of being so vulnerable?
It got me in deep introspection-mode. And after days of ruminating, asking and releasing, I landed on a deep-seated thorn.
When I was a Sophomore in high school, I made a mistake in a rocky friendship. This friend knew a lot about me... actually, nearly everything. During late night sleepovers, we'd pour our hearts out. I'd broken down about my desire for closeness and my deepest fears about never being seen for who I was because my dad's public image. We listened to each other with a safety that seemed very real and very sacred. I yearned for this kind of intimacy in a friendship so much, that I ignored any red flags or lack of trust. Just when the grounds got shaky, we had a large miscommunication that resulted in me making a selfish move.
Naturally, in our afternoon drama class, everything came to a head. I sat speechless as she berated me with full force in front of the entire theater room. I'm sure our teacher - ahem, drama teacher - let it go on as long as he did because the intensity of this show was absolutely Oscar-worthy.
When he finally dismissed us to hash it out outside of class, she dropped a line that would change the way I'd open up for a long, long time.
"You think you can do whatever you want because your dad's a rockstar." She shouted in my face.
The echo of those words went beyond the hallways of that building. It echoed beyond that moment, that week, and that year. It echoed its way all the up until I decided to look at my relationship with vulnerability at 25 years old; Where I discovered how fearful I was to share something so raw and meaningful to me because it just might be used in the most painful possible way.
I shut myself off to close friendships and shivered at the thought of sharing deep truths. I'd only share once finished. I could never be a work in progress, only a fully polished, realized and fully healed being. Nice and safe. No pain.
Except I was missing depth in my social wellbeing. I was missing bonds. I was missing intimacy. I was missing that closeness that I've desired since my first admission to it as a Sophomore in high school.
Finally, just recently, under the full moon in Scorpio, rising over the Caribbean sea, I set the intention to let my vulnerability fly free. No more hiding, no more toughening up, no more lone-wolf, miss independent, solo-star. I am opening up this heart.
I know that it's going to be tough, but my intentions are solid. Even writing this I wish I had more to share - a conclusion to make - a tip to close out with - a lesson or a stronger form of expertise.
In this case, this isn't where this story ends.
I guess it's truly where it begins.
Thank you for being a safe place.