First, let me start by saying that I do not have a crush on Prince Harry. That would be weird. I just wanted to make that clear before I start because I’m sure Duchess Meghan would be extremely jealous and insecure if she thought a woman like me had a crush on her prince. No need to worry, Meghan. You’re welcome.
But now that that whole mess is out of the way, I would like to share a quote of his that I recently read. “When you understand your vulnerability, you can become strong.”
I’m not sure what reaction normal people have when they heard the word “vulnerability,” but I simultaneously do a little jig of joy and cringe at the same time. It’s a love/hate relationship of sorts.
My book club and I are reading George Elliot’s Middlemarch. We have just started the novel, and yesterday we were discussing the character of Dorothea. I admitted that I love her as she is at the beginning. She is idealistic and passionate. She is willing to sacrifice pleasure for her ideals. She is willing to follow that line wherever it takes her.
And when we do that we are vulnerable. Whenever we place an ideal or a value at the forefront of our lives, we are vulnerable. In fact, whenever we live for anything other than our own immediate or long term gain, we are vulnerable.
And that vulnerability is beautiful. It’s something that I seek out in people and that I admire. It’s a trait I had at one point but think I lost along the way. But I’m seeking my way back to it.
It’s my ideal.
That type of vulnerability is heroic.
But the other kind terrifies me and entices me in equal measure.
People often tell me that they appreciate my vulnerability in my blog. I take that as a huge compliment, but it also makes me feel a bit like a fraud of sorts. Because I do share a lot of my real feelings, but I also guard some with a ferocity you wouldn’t normally expect to see in me.
There’s a lot I’m scared of sharing.
I’m scared of letting people see me. I can hide behind a computer screen and that’s fine. But every single time I leave my house, I start to panic.
I’m terrified of not being in control. Spending a night at someone’s house or going on a campout will have me in panic attacks for weeks if not months before hand. I fear the loss of control that comes from it, and I’m scared the entire time.
I’m terrified of friendships. The people I care about the most are the ones who scare me the most. I get weird and awkward in friendships. I share too much and then I panic about it. I withdraw and then share more and panic some more and berate some more. If I didn’t value the people in my life so much, it wouldn’t be worth it. But I do value them, so I take the risk.
And even those areas don’t get at the true vulnerability. The true vulnerability in me are all of those feelings that lead me to fear visibility and friendship and the loss of control.
Those are all held deep inside of me.
Those are the parts of me that I feel should be healed by now. They are the parts of me that I can’t seem to figure out if no one shares or if everyone shares. Those are the core of who I am.
I could share them all with you. But then I would have to disappear.
Sometimes I wonder though if failing to share them is what makes us disappear to each other. I wonder if the unity we were all created for is ultimately broken by our inability or our fear of showing our true vulnerability.
The shame that Adam and Eve felt after the fall was a shame over being seen. Of being known. Fig leaves cover the shame of our bodies being known, and fear and walls cover the shame of ourselves being known.
Despite all of this, I still prize vulnerability above almost all personality traits, and I still want it to grown in me. I’m still going to fight to let more of myself be seen. I’m going to continue to seek it out in other people. And I’m going to try to understand that that crazy dance of advance/withdrawal I have in relationships is a quirky little byproduct of that struggle with vulnerability that I have. I’m going to try to accept that and embrace it rather than fear it.
But as the Prince says (the prince I absolutely do not have a crush on,) our strength comes from our vulnerability. It comes from being willing to bare our weaknesses and ask for help and ask for companionship. It comes from being willing to share the parts of ourselves that we are too afraid to share.
The vulnerability is in the risk, the strength is in the fortitude that develops when we take the risk.