closed fists vs open palms

The risk and reward of living a vulnerable life

So, I’m back in therapy again. (Some of you thought I was joking when I said Cut the Small Talk but I meant that very literally LOL). I’ve been wanting to go back to therapy for a while now, but it wasn’t until this semester that I found myself sitting on a couch and answering the question “so, how did that make you feel?” once again. For those who may not know, I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder when I was in high school. Shortly after receiving the diagnosis, I began to go to therapy on a bi-weekly basis and while it wasn’t the most fun decision I’ve ever made, it was probably one of the best decisions that I’ve ever made. Ask around about Rachel, and you might hear a lot of different things: she can be shy and quiet, she’s very opinionated, she laughs a lot, etc., but rarely would I be described as anxious and depressed. Yet, I cannot even begin to describe the depth of the self-doubt, pain, insecurity, worry and despair that I struggled with during those years. A constant cloud, a heavy weight on my chest, a reoccurring feeling that I was on the verge of drowning…there were many simple ways that I tried to describe it to others, though I still felt that none of them fully encapsulated the feelings I was trying to communicate.

For so long I felt that it was strong not to cry, not to show emotion, not to let someone know when I was in pain. It’s almost like the more pain I could take while pretending everything is okay, the stronger I was. But how is that strength?

What I Learned in Therapy

During that time, one of the many things that I learned in therapy was how to express and communicate the raging emotions that I was feeling. I began to learn how to get past that wall, that lump in my throat, that voice in my head screaming at me to stop. talking. Through therapy, I learned to share. I was given the tools and the confidence to understand and conceptualize what was going on in my head and my heart, and little by little I would talk about it with the people closest to me. Every single time that I would share, I would physically brace my body, waiting for their reaction but often, their reaction wasn’t what I expected. They would drop their shoulders and sigh in relief, or furrow their brows and lean in closer to hear more. They could relate. And if they couldn’t relate, they could empathize. I wasn’t crazy. My thoughts, my fears, my experiences weren’t out of this world. Honestly, I can’t count the number of times I heard “me too” or “I wish we talked about this more”. Through sharing with others I felt seen and as they shared in turn, I was able to actually see others too. This allowed me to connect and relate with them on such a deep and genuine level.

And so, I believe that rich, deep connections saved my life.

Put more simply, allowing myself to be vulnerable saved my life—and it continues to¹. But that doesn’t come without a cost. Vulnerability requires me to consistently relinquish control. I can’t control the other person's perception of me, I can’t control what they choose to do with that information, and most importantly I can’t control if they choose to leave, or to hurt me.

It also requires complete honesty. With myself first and foremost, and then with the other person. It’s not very vulnerable to show someone a mirage, a false idea of where they could hurt you. It’s vulnerability if you show the real thing. And to show the real thing, you have to know where it is. So, first comes self-awareness and being honest with oneself (which takes time). Then comes the rest.

But why would a girl like me, who’s still so scared of rejection and being hurt, continuously choose to be vulnerable with those around me?

Because being vulnerable allows me to enjoy the true fullness of the very experiences which are riddled with uncertainty: love, community, creativity, etc.

It allows me to get hurt, and choose to try again. To swallow my pride and my ego, and give people another chance.

This goes against pretty much everything I see on Twitter. There, the main goal is to protect yourself at all costs and cut off everything and everyone that could hurt you, without explanation. I understand that: protecting your peace is so important. I pray almost every day that I am given the discernment to know when to walk away and when to fight for something bigger and greater than even myself. When to end things, and when to take the time to say “you hurt me” and “how can we work on this?”. But that takes WORK. My closest relationships take some serious work and patience, but they are also extremely rewarding.

It’s frustrating how nice and easy this can all sound, but how hard and complicated it actually is. There are times when I’ve shared and then quickly wished that I’d kept my mouth shut. Because not everyone deserves to see allll of the broken parts of us that make us beautiful. Not everyone should be told everything, and sometimes it’s necessary to wait and work through things individually. Just you and your journal. So I pray: God give me the wisdom to learn the difference. Help me to remember to come to You first. And to forgive myself when I haven’t, so that I don't stop myself from experiencing love and trust again. Help me forgive myself, so I’m not closed off to new opportunities and experiences of connection.

Taking a Look into the Mirror: Vulnerability and Self-Reflection

Sometimes, being real with others can serve as a mirror through which we can better see ourselves and understand ourselves. Vulnerability begets growth.

Often, I find myself talking to myself, reinforcing the same ideas and beliefs, coming back to the same issues and conclusions, going around in circles. Then I share and the reflection reveals blind spots that I never noticed before. It reveals things that I thought I had already definitively overcome. Things from my past that I’d simply tucked away in a corner to be dealt with later.

Now, here I am back in another therapist’s office. She asks me a question. I clench my fists, feel my body physically tense up, and the wall quickly begins to rise. My throat closes up, trying to choke the words before they escape. Racing thought after racing thought flashes through my mind, almost too fast for me to catch and show her. Then I close my eyes, and release my clenched fists — my palms facing upwards. I take a deep breath in, and when I exhale a few words finally come out. I tell the truth.

Rae

Examples of Vulnerability (taken from verywellmind.com)

• Taking chances that might lead to rejection

• Talking about mistakes you have made

• Sharing personal information that you normally keep private

• Feeling difficult emotions such as shame, grief, or fear

• Reconnecting with someone you have fallen out with

• Being honest about what you need in a relationship (in the moment), including your boundaries and expectations

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