Vulnerability, Actually

"Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. 

Truth and courage aren't always comfortable, but they are never weakness." 

~ Brene Brown

"We can do hard things."

~ Glennon Doyle

I was super, duper close to titling this blog/vlog "Weakness, Actually." I wanted to play on what is apparently turning into a series of blogs/vlog ending with the word "actually." I started by posting an old blog called "Courage, Actually" as a vlog a few weeks back and then followed up last week by posting a vlog of a new blog called "Ironic, Actually." The latter was intended to be a rebuttal of the former. See? I'm really not as courageous as I may have led y'all to believe. Reception to my crow-eating rebuttal was all-together positive. People get fear - they really do. By and large, they thought it took a lot of courage to write and speak openly about my fears and my battle with them.

Still......... I'm not feeling all that good about it all. I'm heading into my fourth week of counseling and I still feel weak as hell (Thus the proposed title, "Weakness, Actually). I approach my homework assignments like I'm fighting to stay on the Honor Roll. This week I immediately sat down and knocked out the first half, including continuing the optional readings. The second half I planned to do tonight but this came up; I'll assuredly get it done before my appointment on Wednesday. I guess you can see that I'm taking it seriously. I'm focused, putting in the work, eating my broccoli, so to speak.

But man, let me tell you. The counseling only scratches the surface. The more I think about my fears and overcoming them, the more scared I get. It's a lot. A lot a lot. I was good for so long. I think about that, too, a lot. I felt so fearless that I tempted fear. I marched straight for it and dared it to take a swing at me. When it did swing, I bobbed and weaved. And ipso-facto, I became a solo international traveler, published a blog about how courageous I was, moved to a new city in a new state. That's when I got overconfident and actually thought I could start dating.

I was good, strong. I had a handle on it. I could do this. I mastered enough of the art of vulnerability to get me through a phone date and then a coffee date a few weeks later. I even managed to successfully navigate our first weekend away together. No problem. I jumped into the deep end, vulnerability life vest fastened tightly around me, ready to tread water, ready to go even deeper.

Turns out there was one thing I wasn't ready for. "I love you." Because Boom! Almost immediately the fear crept in. Soon it all but consumed me, crushed any and all of the vulnerability I attempted to muster. I was dead in the water. Paralyzed and sinking fast. I made errors in judgement, misspoke, misinterpreted. Fear and anxiety were all that I could see, hear, and feel. 

I read today that to get to courage one must go travel through fear. Because courage isn't the absence of fear; it's the ability to endure in spite of the fear. When I was able to hold my fear in check and I truly allowed myself to be vulnerable, it did feel like courage. And it sure did sound like truth; it was my truth. Brene is right - it wasn't exactly comfortable. It was hard. But you know what? I found that I could do the hard thing. 

And I can do more hard things. I can face my fears, control my anxiety (That's another issue I'm facing - I'm no longer able to control all aspects of my life because I NO LONGER WANT TO). I'm fifty-one years old and I have baggage. Past relationships, past "I love yous," past break ups. For a long time I told myself that my heart simply wouldn't love anymore; it wasn't capable of it. That was only because I wouldn't let it. Now I want more than ever to love and be loved. Minus the fear. Minus the anxiety. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again right here - Everything I want is on the other side of fear. And The ONLY way to get there is by going through it - being vulnerable, doing the hard things. Because if I let fear decide, I won't do any of that. I'll curl back into my shell and allow in only what I can control. 

It's a risk. My heart feels like it's made of butterfly wings or tissue paper. Easily torn, easily destroyed. My heart needs to toughen up? Not really. My heart needs to let go of it's weakness and embrace vulnerability. It's going to be uncomfortable, as Brene says, but in the end my heart will speak it's truth and find it's courage. And it will love.

So, I guess it really is about vulnerability, actually.