Someone who has experienced trauma also has gifts to offer all of us – in their depth, their knowledge of our universal vulnerability, and their experience of the power of compassion.
~Sharon Salzberg
Vulnerability is a topic that awakens discomfort in many, and because of this, I am drawn to it, curious to explore why. Vulnerability should not be mistaken for weakness; it is, in fact, a true measure of bravery, a test we often fail, choosing instead to put on emotional shields. The widespread feeling of it is often rooted in childhood experiences. Shutting down my ability to be vulnerable happened as a young child and was trauma-related to my father, yet others may have shame or areas of self-worth that were threatened, forcing one to build barricades against the threat.
Barriers were necessary for survival then, but they are no longer required.
To show vulnerability is a supreme act of trust, not just an emotional state; it reflects our most primal survival instinct. We see it with our domestic pets; they protect their soft underbelly until safety is assured. It is both physical and instinctual. We do the same, protecting our innermost selves, guarding against dangers real and imagined.
Once we recognize the past, the triggers that kept us barricaded can be released. When the threat is removed, the choice to open the door we’ve blocked liberates the growth of our soul. It unlocks a version of yourself you thought you lost.
Change happens when we have reached a low, an impasse, or a situation we no longer want to continue. My epiphany came when I was exploring why, as an adult, I had such difficulty asking for help. I was often labeled as Superwoman by those around me.
My inner exploration eventually took me back to the trauma that had occurred as a toddler. As clear as if I were there in time, I witnessed the exact moment my younger self closed herself off. It was in the evening. My mother was working a night shift. My brother and I were with our father.
My plea for help to my father was received with a violent act; I was thrown against a wall. Even as a toddler, I understood the danger I faced, so I remained silent, held my breath, hoping invisibility would protect me.
As I replayed the incident in my mind’s eye, I not only witnessed the moment I chose to shut down, but also understood why it no longer served me.
The inner dialogue my younger self had was: Don’t ask for help, it’s dangerous. Don’t show neediness. An inner strength bubbled to the surface, supported by an I can take care of myself’ attitude. The fear and trauma were imprinted on my subconscious like a wild animal frozen in danger.
Then, literally in an instant, I let go and released the need for that behavior. The very outdated thought that shaped my adult life was suddenly liberated. The triggers dissolved once the idea that sustained them was discharged.
Equating asking for help with weakness and danger, I replaced that thought with the understanding that asking for help and being vulnerable are signs of strength. I won’t minimize the deep emotional work I continued to do until the new normal became second nature, yet the initial change occurred quickly. My intention was to uncover the source of my outdated behavior, a belief that no longer served me. The cape that once felt protective had become an unnecessary weight, and I no longer needed to wear it.
Most of our vulnerabilities stem from something that happened; words or actions that, instead of uplifting us, tore us down. Moving beyond and transforming the past into tools for a better present is possible. However, many hold on to the familiar, clinging to it, even when it confines us. They have not yet found the confidence to let go.
Horses show their trust only to those who prove worthy. So too do we. The lesson is simple. Trust those who earn it, and most importantly, trust yourself.
Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they’re never weakness.
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