003: Vulnerability with a Side of Inclusion

It's been a little over a month since I last posted. A lot has happened and I've been struggling to find the right words to express the experience. I would start typing then decide what I was sharing was too personal, too vulnerable. There are sides of myself that I want the world to see but fears from past experiences keep me from letting those sides out. 

I started this blog as a way to express myself and give people a little insight into my world. I realized that I find it easier to share things in writing than verbally. I'm a classic overthinker - not because I want to be but because it's what helped me survive my past. Reading rooms, analyzing expressions, analyzing body language, trying to predict if it's safe to speak or be seen. Over the years, I found that making myself invisible was easier than constantly analyzing if it was safe to be seen. 

So I became really good at being invisible. I learned to say the right things, laugh at the right times, and always smile. I rarely contributed my thoughts and feelings, which was fine because I was rarely ever asked anyway. I became an expert at keeping people at arms length. The funny thing is I didn't even realize I was doing this; it was second nature.  

I was constantly told I was lucky to have so many friends. But for a long time, I felt like I didn't have a friend in the world. Yes, I knew a lot of people but that didn't make them friends. They didn't know anything about me. I listened and smiled and let them express themselves. They would tell me about hardships they were going through along with wins they were proud of. I was told I'm a really good listener and I would make them feel heard. And so I attracted a lot of people that would take and take and take but never give back to me. Not everyone of course, but a lot of people. I created this environment for myself where I always keep things surface level because I learned people walk away when I let myself come through. It's been an exhausting and lonely journey, one that my therapist and I have been trying to work through. 

And then I was introduced to someone. I wish I could say we hit it off right off the bat but that's not quite true. It took a little while for us to connect and start chatting. But once the conversation started, it flowed like a river in a storm. She asked good questions and shared personal things about herself but she left the door open for me to share things about myself too. We found ourselves texting each other daily and getting to know each other on a deeper level. I told her things I had never told anyone before, not because I didn't want to but because no one had ever bothered to ask. She saw things in me that no one had ever noticed. And for the first time I felt seen. And while it felt good, it was also terrifying because she hadn't seen my "dark side" yet. 

This is a heavy topic so here's a picture of my pup that makes me smile

Enter Pride weekend. I won't go into the details but I will say it was not a good experience for me. It hit a lot of my triggers, especially surrounding inclusion, belonging, and being seen and heard. This was devastating to me because it was supposed to be a celebration of me being me and it didn't feel like that. I was sad and angry and I felt like I had no one to turn to that would understand. I wanted to turn to my new friend but I was scared of showing this deeply vulnerable side of myself. What if she thought I was too much? Would she be just another person on my list of people that have walked away? So I did what I do best and I isolated myself. I told her I was having a hard time and would respond to her when I felt like I could. 

After not hearing from me for nearly a day, she checked in with me. She had noticed a shift in my behavior and wanted to make sure I was ok. I was so touched by this small gesture that I decided to share a little bit of what I was going through. And you know what? She didn't walk away and she didn't tell me she understood. She said she was sad to hear I was going through a hard time and she was there to support me. She patiently listened and shared stories of herself when she had felt the same way. It made me feel a little less alone, a little less sad, and lot more seen. She reminded that every "no" I've received has been a blessing in disguise. It prevented me from further investing in dead ends. It left space in my life for something better. She's an amazing friend and I feel so lucky to have her in my life.  

So why am I telling you this story? I know that being vulnerable can lead to pain and rejection. But I learned it can also lead to beautiful souls and wonderful connections. Maybe that's an obvious statement to some but it's a lesson I've been scared to learn for a long time. I've since tried being vulnerable with a few more people and I've seen mixed results. The exciting part is that it has deepened some relationships that I had been keeping at surface level. 

Writing this here for the world to see is another step in my journey of vulnerability. It won't be for everyone and that's ok because it's not meant for everyone. It's meant for that person that feels alone, unseen, unheard. The person that is scared to let others in because so many before have let them down. This is for the person that needs to hear that they are not the only one that feels like this and there are people out there that want to see the real side of them. I say to that person: keep fighting because quitting means letting "them" win. You are valuable just as you are and all those failed attempts you've experienced aren't rejections. They're a redirection leading you to the right people. And while you continue on your search, I'm here rooting for you 💜