My vulnerability and willingness to publicly share difficult emotions and life events is triggering for many.
There have been a number of people who have tried to weaponize my vulnerability against me. Usually this is done by loudly unsubscribing, or digging into the pain I’ve shared in an attempt to play on whatever insecurities they might think I have.
Such people believe that vulnerability is a sign of weakness. They reject any weakness or emotional need within themselves, and are upset with people who openly display those traits because it reminds them of the parts of themselves they hate and suppress.
The most immature of them all will ravenously start throwing tomatoes.
The irony is that vulnerability is a sign of true inner-strength. While I may feel fragile in the moment of sharing my pain, that feeling does not define me.
My vulnerability is the product of my authenticity, openness to receive human support, and self-worth.
It’s the product of me willing to be judged and disliked in my truth.
I go through difficult times just like everyone else. But with the right tools, I always pull through. Vulnerability is a necessary skill to be able to access the tools we need to pull through the ups and downs of life. Without it, we perish.
In this case, by the time this commenter made her way to “cancelling” me, I had already received comforting words of support from a few of my readers, experienced a sunny day, and inched a little bit further in working through a very stressful life issue.
So, she was very late to the game. And that’s how it often is with the people who trash me for being vulnerable.
By the time they load up their gun with ammo and point it at my head, I’ve already processed those emotions and floated along with my life.
Meanwhile, they are still stuck in their rut, conceptualizing me as “the weakest link”: easy prey for them to step on, throw away, and project their childhood wounds onto.
In reality, they can’t even dream of touching me, and I see right through them.
And those who can hurt me in a material sense (or who try to) still can’t access the most integral part of me, which is the home that I have found within myself:
The protected little cottage with the warm light on inside, that I manage to trudge back to through all the nasty storms life has to offer.
That’s my sacred little home, and we don’t allow bad people inside.
No matter what they do, they can never grasp their grubby little hands on my spirit enough to break it.
Because at the end of the day, I know who I am.
And perhaps, deep down, that’s the very thing that angers them the most.
What a loser comment that person made. Imagine going out of your way to write something like that.
I have several of your past posts bookmarked to read when I have time to do them justice. I just saw this pass by and wanted to say I love your writing and how you are able to describe things that most of us cannot find words for.