Vulnerability

I’ve been asking myself to be more vulnerable lately. A few years ago, vulnerable was my word of the year. Actions that caused me to feel vulnerable then, don’t now.  

Being vulnerable asks me to push out of my comfort zone, to risk rejection or lack of acknowledgement. It especially asks a trust that feels fleeting. It’s easy to move to the ‘what if nobody likes me?’ kind of self-talk, which shuts down risk taking and provides a brief sense of false security as I crawl back into my shell. 

But you see the thing is, the shell is getting harder to fit into. And, it’s not necessarily because of weight gain during this time of ‘shelter-in-place.’ Once we move into being willing to be vulnerable, retreating to the alternative is more difficult. We know too quickly it is not who we really are. 

Have you been feeling vulnerable lately? How are you expressing it? How does it show up for you? 

The vulnerability of the kind that asks you to step more into who you are, asks that we figure out who we are.  While a core of me is steady and unchanging, this other part is not so much that way. When I’m in the core, I can act fiercely and do not anticipate responses. The other part hinders my taking action for concern of offending someone, or not getting the response I’d like. 

Sometimes these blogs seem so philosophical, so my dear husband told me recently, that they don’t seem ‘real’.  So, here are some real examples. 

  • I’ve been seeking heart-to-heart conversations. Reaching out to some friends I share a bit and ask for more heart-to-heart sharing. Sharing part supported, the reach for more not. And I feel exposed, not wanting to be thought of as needy, and also glad for taking the risk. It helps me understand we are connected and each on our own journey. Vulnerability in the form of insecurity shows as I struggle to not take it personally.  

  • A few weeks ago, a request to a friend for regular connection netted careful pondering, and a sincere ‘not something I can sign up for at this time.’ I respect the answer and wait to see what will next appear. My ego wants to go down an unhealthy path; I mostly reign it back although also refrain from reaching out waiting for life to come to me. 

  • My brother calls me to see how we are doing. I’ve since called him a few times. His call helped me, see how the story I’d told myself that his heavy workload precludes me from interrupting him, does not give me the right to choose if he has time to connect. 

  • My daughter calls me out for not listening, providing many examples, and it stings. I consider this for a bit and call her back with the request to continue to do so, and an apology. It is a joy that she shares and I am invited to be vulnerable in this time by acknowledging she’s right and to ask for help. 

  • Recently a derisively labeling Facebook post resulted in me responding. While I knew it was a risk, the response was swift and attacking. Perhaps deserved, for it invited me to consider other approaches to inviting common ground focus. And being vulnerable doesn’t mean I’ll not offend.  

The invitation continues to take risks, to share, to try and trust. That’s what this Spiritual Mindfulness offering is – an invitation for you to join me in being vulnerable, sharing and exploring questions without answers, answers without questions. All while developing practices that support, invite and nourish far beyond the four week experience.

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All is a Teacher

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Screaming to Get Out?