The power of sharing your vulnerability
Happy 2018!
We've all made it into a new year. I'm one of those annoying people who gets very excited for a new year, because I can't help but feel that it's a new beginning. Of course, you can start fresh any time of the year, but there is a buzz of excitement around New Year's - do you feel it? It's a special vibe, an almost tangible energy, and it never fails to make me pumped for the future.
A year ago I started sending out these little letters, and writing them has become such a cherished part of my life. They feel more intimate than blog posts, almost like you are my pen pals!
I always try to send something that's useful to you, something that improves your life and makes you feel better about yourself. I can't really give advice (still trying to figure life out over here), but I can share what's going on in my own life, what I've learnt and what has helped me in different situations. And isn't that what life is all about? Sharing our stories in order to connect with others, to let each other know that we are not alone?
I think so.
In my 38 years on this earth I have learnt quite a few lessons, but there is one that stands out by a mile.
Undoubtedly the biggest lesson I have learnt so far?
Embracing your vulnerability will make you stronger.
And I should know.
I was brought up to not share anything personal, let alone anything vulnerable. The spoken message was that "it's nobody's business what's happening in our family", but over time, I realized there was an unspoken message: fear. They were afraid that if they ever shared anything vulnerable, other people would ridicule them/take advantage/abuse that knowledge.
So, for over 30 years, I followed that rule. I kept everything that troubled me to myself, only sharing it with very close friends and boyfriends/husband.
It was a lonely existence.
For the majority of my adult life, I was convinced that something was wrong with me.
Why was I so insecure? Why would I get so sad? Or even worse, so unspeakably angry?
Why did it seem like nothing was ever quite enough?
Why couldn't I be as happy as seemingly everybody else was? I would scroll through Facebook and feel depressed. I would look at other people's holiday photos and feel inferior. I would compare my insides to other people's outsides, not realizing that they were putting up a front just like I was, hiding their vulnerabilities behind it.
But how would I know? If everything I was ever taught was about hiding your true self?
I wanted nothing more than to connect. To not feel alone any more.
And it dawned on me, after an agonizingly long time, that the only way to truly connect with others was by sharing my true self.
So, almost 5 years ago, I tentatively started opening up on the blog about all the stuff that had slowly been suffocating me for years.
My depression. My inexplicable need to be alone.
Toxic friendships that I felt were my fault.
Omg, my unnatural wish to not have kids?!
All this stuff came out over time.
And you know what? Instead of being made fun of or hated on, like I feared, I got understanding. Kindness. Me, too's.
And I slowly, disbelievingly, started to understand just what power there was inside me all along: the power of being vulnerable.
It was as if a damn broke loose. The more of my penned up, hidden-for-years-feelings I released, the freer I felt. And not only that: I felt stronger.
Once I shared everything I was so ashamed of for so long, it lost its power over me. I thought I had to hide all these facts about me, in order for other people to like me, when in truth, I didn't. And once I released them, their scariness simply evaporated. Poof.
And it never came back.
And honestly, I learnt that lesson just in time.
Because 4 months ago, my love got really sick. Excruciating joint and muscle pain, severe exhaustion, brain fog, insomnia, weight loss, depression. At first, I didn't share it as is ingrained in me, hoping it would just go away with time.
It didn't.
Instead, it got worse.
So finally, at the end of my wisdom, I shared a bit about Rich's mysterious illness, in the improbably named post Taking absentmindedness to the next level.
(It was supposed to be about something else - me forgetting a tampon in my vajajaj for a week, and having to have it removed by a doctor.)
Luckily, an astute reader ignored my blabbering nonsense and told me about Lyme Disease, an illness I knew next to nothing about at the time. I looked into it, and the more I did, the more I was convinced that this is what Rich has.
Low and behold, the test came back positive, and we have started to treat him for Lyme Disease.
The relief we felt at finally having an answer after so many months of knowing nothing was indescribable.
But that wasn't the end of it.
Two days ago, after a particularly bad day, I shared the above picture on my Facebook and Instagram with the simple caption: "Today was a hard day. #lymedisease #warrior #iloveyou #wegotthis"
I didn't expect anything from it. I simply felt the overwhelming need to share our burden with others, to make it a bit easier to carry.
Omg, I was not prepared for what happened next.
After picking up my phone later than usual the next day (I wasn't in the mood for anything, not even social media), I was overwhelmed at what awaited me: dozens and dozens of messages from people wishing us well. Some of them were people I haven't seen in years: from high school, or Rich's home town, or peeps I went to college with. I never got a response like that before, and I honestly still don't know what happened.
All I know is this: it meant the absolute world to us. Because we feel like we're not fighting this alone, but that we have support. I told a friend today: "We're building an army around Rich to help him fight those evil bugs."
And that's exactly what it is. After feeling alone for so many years, I don't feel alone any more.
I have learnt that people are so happy to help, if you just ask them. Sharing your vulnerabilities doesn't make you appear weak; it makes you look human.
And people can identify with that.
Because we're all human, and vulnerable, and none of us knows what we are doing.
And we are much more alike than we think we are.
So, go ahead. Share something scary. And witness the magic unfold.
xoxo Miriam
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Vol. 42