I Have a Vulnerability Hangover

I have what Brene Brown would call a vulnerability hangover.

Last week, I wrote a post for my blog which is usually viewed by a handful of friends and family members. People who love me read what I write. That blows my mind. Sometimes, there are more than handful of readers, on really significant posts like Time and The Post I Don’t Want To Write, and it flabbergasts me. It is exciting and terrifying and confusing and peaceful that so many people are invested and are willing to listen.

But this past week. This past week was different. This past week I was slightly irritated by hearing that Hurricane Irma “wasn’t that bad” from a couple of different sources who weren’t living through it. It wasn’t a big irritation. I wasn’t upset. Mostly surprised. As you know, writing is how I organize my thoughts and discover my feelings. And so, I wrote. I wrote about the impact here in Jacksonville. I didn’t cover so many important things like homelessness and pets and very-last-minute mandatory evacuation notices. I just wrote about things that are and were right in front of me that I can actually speak to. I wrote to let my handful of people know that there are varying degrees of bad and when you are in pain it really doesn’t help to hear that it isn’t that bad. Even if my pain doesn’t compare to your pain or isn’t as severe as your pain or you think I should get over it, when I am in pain I am in pain and that is my reality. And right now, Florida is in pain. Houston is in pain. Islands in the Caribbean are in so. much. pain.

I don’t write so that everyone agrees with me. I don’t write to change your mind. I write because it is good for my soul and helps me manage my emotions and eventually end up with a cohesive idea.

This past week, my post resonated with a few sweet friends who shared it. And then it was shared again. And again. And as the views continued to increase, I was at first confused. And then excited. And then terrified. And then a level beyond terrified and I cried and I felt that I had laid my heart bare for everyone to see and what if they didn’t like it and no-don’t-get-too-close and oh-my-word-what-have-I-done? I thought about shutting it down. I thought about how my skin is probably not thick enough for snippy anonymous comments. I thought about how vulnerable it feels to be so transparent. To put my life out there for others to see.  

But that’s my goal, right? That’s what I have said to you from the start. I want to be vulnerable. I want you to see my weaknesses, my fears, my insecurities. Because I am tired of all of us acting like we don’t have them. We do. I do. You do. Why is it so icky and scary to share that piece with people? Are we afraid of being judged? (Yes.) Are we afraid of being disliked? (Yes.) Are we afraid of being weird? (Yes.)

I want to be genuine. I want to be real. I want you to know that someone else is scared of being seen. Of being really seen. That someone else is also only acting like she has it all together. That someone else feels like a fraud most of the time and is afraid that the walls will come crashing down if you only open the door.

And so I choose to be courageous. I choose to show you my heart and mind and hope that you will be gentle with it. And if you aren’t, that is life and I will be ok. I choose to keep writing and hope that you choose to keep reading. Life is worth sharing. This is mine…