Vulnerability is one of those keys to life we never quite graduate from learning.
Who can say that they are always comfortable with vulnerability? (Show me that person, and I’ll call them a liar. Though maybe not to their face..)
Isn’t it strange how when we need help the most, it’s the hardest to ask for it?
Vulnerability is a form of trust, a form of faith.
You step out, hoping you won’t fall. You choose to put yourself in a position in which you could quite possibly get hurt. When you need some encouragement––so badly that you actually feel scared to ask––you choose to let someone know. When someone has hurt you and everything inside you wants to self-protect by running away and never ever letting that person see how they affected you, you instead open yourself to them. You tell them it hurt.
Why, though? Why take that risk? Don’t we have a self-protective instinct for a reason?
Yes. But we were made for connection and intimacy. And intimacy requires vulnerability. It’s just a fact.
Sometimes people are callous. Sometimes they don’t listen. Sometimes you get beat up. Sometimes it’s time to move on. But sometimes you discover things you never could have imagined when you swallow your pride, let go of your fear, and let yourself be real. You find kindness embracing you. You find a new perspective setting you free.
You find yourself strangely light and joyful, filled with the knowledge that you overcame, that you pushed past the fear and dread and let yourself be loved.