Skip to main content

Vulnerability

   I was speaking to a friend the other night about the act of crying in public. He mentioned that at one point he could not conceive of this particular thing, but as he has gotten older he has realized the act of being vulnerable and the healing powers it has for one's soul. 
   I admit that I still have this inability. There are very few in my life that see me cry...very few. It isn't that I am ashamed or scared to cry in front of others, I just don't allow myself (or haven't gotten) vulnerable enough to do this. The question that came up during this conversation was this: is it a shame or is it just not something done?
   Shame...I can't see it as shameful. Shame is something you regret because you think it is wrong. I don't feel wrong because I don't cry in front of others, I just don't get there. I remember the ex asked me this very specific question, "So you don't feel comfortable crying in front of me?" My answer...no. And I didn't. However, oddly enough, not too many weeks later I was crying in front of him. It might have been because he said something very hurtful, and he didn't realize it, and my complete moment of vulnerability. Had I been in a different state of mind I never would have allowed that to happen.
    I specifically remember living with my old roommate, and I came home after a terribly stressful day, and in stead of talking about it...I broke. I cried for at least 5 minutes. I couldn't wrap my mind around all the bad events of the day. I walked away from her when she said, "In all the years I have known you this is the most vulnerable that you have ever been." I remember taking great offense to this statement.
    As I relayed this story to my friend he told me that perhaps because she was a crier that she saw the only way of being vulnerable as shedding tears. I held resentment because of all the times that I was vulnerable with her she must have never realized it. I felt hurt, as though she thought I was holding back from her and that had never been my intention.
    I have realized this...everyone shows vulnerability in different ways. Sure, we automatically see tears as being the number one way of vulnerability. But what about those times when we are telling someone of a dark deep secret and in stead of looking them in the eyes we glance around the room perhaps afraid of their reactions, and our hands shake and our voice shakes but we speak out secret anyway. Or what about when we look someone in the eye and tell them that we love them. Not the I love you because we are good friends, but the love that makes the butterflies and the hopes and dreams and actions of their good and bad traits all aflutter in our spirits. 
    To me this is just as vulnerable as crying...and to me...even more so. My most vulnerable moments are the ones that when you ask me a direct, "How are you?" I don't respond with an already scripted answer of, "Great! How are you." I guarantee that even though that may be true, my vulnerable soul will want to scream why I am great. Or if I answer with the same, I might want to yell across the room that the world is crashing. When I tell you more of why I am happy or perhaps that I am not good...that is my vulnerability. 
    But how often are we vulnerable? How often do we let go and trust others with ourselves? I have realized that this hurts the most when those we already trust don't get our vulnerability. I had a friend once keep some very important things from me about her life at the time. She later told me she didn't want to burden me. What I relayed to her was that she was stealing my free will. She was stealing my freedom of deciding that for myself. I guess sometimes I need to listen to my own advice...it is hard to remember sometimes.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Beneath the Weeping Willow

  "The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows—a wall against the wind. This is the willow's purpose." —  Frank Herbert, Dune   Time, although a very evasive concept, is in each moment a gift. And most often, I don't stop to look back at the road I have traveled on. Even more so, the road Justin and I have travelled together. But today it is warranted. Today marks 9 years as husband and wife, and 9 years of truly some amazing and adverse moments. We have lost the most cherished and birthed the most loved all the while interwoven with each other.    I will be the first to admit that our day to day appears to some: mundane. However, inside the ordinary he and I together have understood the profundity of love. It is brash and loud, but it is also cautious and quiet.  "Love is a many splendored thing."  It is the true basis of community, and I am proud of the community we have built.   The  willow  is the t...

Being his girlfriend

"Are you happy being my girlfriend?" He asks. In all seriousness. In all honesty. He asks. Never once have I been asked such a damned difficult question. Never once have I been asked that slight simple question. Never once have I been asked THAT question.   Immediately, my head goes a thousand different directions. I want to give him the most honest answer. But lately I feel as though I am trying to quantity my happiness. Yes. I. Am. Happy. But what is happiness? Am I? Can I honestly say that I am happy? I don't know.   Before I make an ass out of myself, I must say this: not one time in the history of Aly and men has she ever felt like her significant other was shelter. You know that line from Finding Nemo where Dory says to Marlin, "When I look at you, I remember. When I look at you, I am home." That's the way I feel when I am in his arms. Home. Perhaps it best not to tell him such a bold thought, but it's true.   Back to this question. Am I happy b...

The Breath of Life

   "I c-c-c-can't stop shaking." "Oh, that is normal," he said as he looked down at me before he peered back over the blue medical sheet in front of my face. I couldn't. I just couldn't stop the incessant shaking. The moment of welcoming my son had played out in my head everyday for the last 10 months, and I promise, this was NOT it.   We arrived 30 hours prior, and my utopistic idea of induction had not come true.    "There are only a few reasons we would revert to a cesarean section... 1. He is under stress. 2. I am under stress. 3. He isn't progressing after some time, but chances are we won't get there."    So, after 22 hours of quite intense labor, I found myself being prepped for a c-section. I'll be the first to admit, my words of, "We will do what we have to do to have a healthy baby," seemed so far gone now. I wasn't sure emotionally how I had gotten this far, or even how I would get further.   "We are go...