The Vulnerability Valve

Typically when we hear people speak of feeling vulnerable we tend to assign the meaning of weakness to it. There is a difference between powerlessness and being vulnerable. When someone is powerless there is a sense of feeling incapable and immobilized  by their inadequacy, where whatever they are experiencing or witnessing is beyond their control and influence. I have often felt like this as a mother as I watch my daughters develop and assert their independence. I cannot fix their heavy work schedules or write that difficult examination despite the stress I see, nor can I mend their broken hearts when they have been hurt. For many, watching their loved ones fight depression, anxiety and addictions can feel to be a very powerless experience. The inability to tap into your resources or find solutions can be a hopeless and dis-empowering time. Feeling powerless is often the result of external factors that are beyond your control.

Being vulnerable however is an internal position that requires a choice. I struggled with this idea for years as I was conditioned to believe that vulnerability was a sign of weakness. Keeping a “stiff up lip” thanks to colonialism and making sure everything looked grand on the outside while you fall apart on the inside was considered “optimal living.” I have come to learn and experience that being vulnerable is a powerful and freeing way to live. This is not about attention seeking or about falling apart. It is when well timed release of information can bring about an opportunity for you to grow and bond in your relationships. There is a strong correlation between vulnerability and intimacy. Intimacy is that place in relating where individuals aren’t afraid of sharing their deepest selves for fear of rejection.

Vulnerability is an invitation to intimacy and is the valve that regulates your emotional exposure. My daughter once said to me, “Mom you don’t have to be strong all the time”. At first this scared me and I was tempted to slip back behind my impervious wall of self preservation where I concealed my struggles.  In that moment I had to choose to be vulnerable and respond to her invitation to connect with her, not as a daughter but as a grown woman who was willing to share my load. It was a magical and freeing moment for us both. My daughter saw my vulnerability as strength and appreciated my willingness to trust her - I felt safety and support from her in a way that I had not experienced before in our relationship. Then it dawned on me that there were many times in my life where family and friends had issued similar invitations to intimacy and I had declined believing that I had to be “strong”. In those moments I did not exhibit strength I was at my weakest. The day I shared my struggles with my daughter when I chose to make myself vulnerable is when I learned what true strength was. Vulnerability requires risk and courage but the rewards of stronger, richer, and more intimate relational bonds are worth the risk.