There are many things in this world that make me afraid. I am afraid of being bitten by a rattlesnake. I am afraid of excessive turbulence on an airplane. I'm afraid that I won't know how to survive if someone in my family dies.
But the most paralyzing of all is my fear of being vulnerable. It's so real. So ever-present. It's the fear that my real self will be rejected - by a loved one, by a friend, by society... I'm sure I'm not alone. That would be ridiculous because everyone suffers some form of self-doubt. But vulnerability.... I've been working on this as a part of my training. I'm trying to love myself more unconditionally. No more, "I love me only when my hair is perfect." Or, "I love me only if I weigh x-amount." Only, "I love me." I've heard two conflicting sides of things when it comes to loving yourself - there's the 'you have to love yourself before someone else loves you' and the 'letting others love you helps you love yourself.' I like the latter.
No matter how independent we are, we cannot avoid being influenced by those around us. My parents love me. Unconditionally. Through this unconditional love, they have taught me that my quirks, my talents, and my flaws - my real self, is worthy of love. Rather than trying to be myself and getting rejected by them, I am accepted. Rejection makes us close up and not want to reveal our truths again for fear of negative results. Just like training an animal, you respond consistently to certain behaviors, sure enough, you reinforce or discourage them enough that they know if they do a certain action, you in turn will respond as certain way. Trained. We are trained by the responses we receive from others when we reveal certain aspects of who we are. Because no matter what anyone says, no is immune from caring what at least one other person thinks of them.
I have always considered myself to be a strong person. Only recently have I started to realize that maybe my idea of strength is holding me back. I can hold my own in this world - certainly. But do I really want to? I have never dated much, but I have thrown myself into pretend relationships ever since high school. Someone catches my eye and before I even know their middle name, I am in love with him inside my head. I start to talk to him inside my head and he becomes someone new. He's mine and he's perfect and he loves me. And then I see/interact with him in real life and think, "What the hell?"
In high school I would flirt shamelessly with any boy who paid attention to me - I was a very confident young woman in a lot of areas of my life, but I never had any confidence that a boy would be attracted to/like me. So once a boy did, I gave him my full attention in real life (and had plenty of conversations with him in my head) but if he ever expressed real interest in me, I would seize up and start running in the opposite direction. No joke. It was this crazy pendulum of desperately seeking acceptance but as soon as a boy showed me some, I was convinced that I was far too independent for a boyfriend.
The more often this happened, the more I started to realize that I wasn't running from relationships for fear of losing independence. It was because I was afraid that maybe he wouldn't like me anymore once I dropped the flirtatious facade and started acting like the real me - the one who loves quoting movies with the exact intonation used by the actors. The one who loves feeling picturesque and yet always manages to ruin the moment by doing something stupid like falling and skinning her knee. The one who tries to sleep on her back because she heard that it triggers deeper, more involved dreams and because it keeps wrinkles from forming prematurely. That me. Why would I risk getting close enough to someone that they are in a position to judge me? The real me. That's too risky.
Vulnerability was weakness and I valued my strength. And yet I would day dream about being injured - a massive car wreck from which I needed rescuing. A girl crazed with jealousy standing over me with a gun - and a boy to stop her. A ship wreck and a handsome sailor to save my life. And I would snap out of it and hate myself. I would berate myself for wanting to be weak - for not wanting to be strong enough to save myself.
I was not going to listen to Ray Bradbury no matter how much of a genius I thought he was. He said, "You've got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down." No sir. I will build my wings first, thank you very much, and I will climb up to the cliff once I'm sure they are perfectly capable of working. On second thought, maybe I'll just stay here on the ground.
Keeping myself from being vulnerable when it was exactly what I wanted most became like an act of violence. I was hurting myself every time I ran away (not to mention how I hurt others.) I was connected to people through a few superficial things we had in common because I didn't let anyone in. We had classes together. We both enjoyed the same type of music. Or we had the same sense of style. I felt so lonely and yet I even suppressed that feeling. When my sister ran off and joined the Navy, I felt abandoned. Again. We had been on rough terms ever since she became a teenager and I often had to correct myself when I said I "hated" her and edit it to I "hated her behavior." But nonetheless, she left and I was more alone than ever because we had known each other at a very deep level. Lots of my strength I had built up was because of her. It took years to realize that our coping methods were different. I coped by writing. She coped by rebelling.
It was the final straw for me. I stepped off pendulum because it wasn't worth tricking myself into thinking I was worthy of anyone at all. Rather than fearing vulnerability and emotional intimacy, I pretended it didn't even exist. Why bother at all. I leaned on my mother and considered all friendships to be superficial. By accepting that there was no one in the world besides my mom that I was compatible with, I was saving myself from further injury. I wrapped myself up in my strength and took the world of academia by storm. I was happy. I've always been happy. It's my nature. I was lonely still, sure, but I pushed that feeling so deep inside of myself that I could crush its voice with a good cry and then go on with my life by repeating my mantra that I was never going to have a close friend let alone a close boyfriend so might as well enjoy the shallow relationships I have. Because I'm really good at that.
On the rare occasion I started crushing on a boy again, I either stomped my feelings out, or started picking apart their flaws until I was completely disgusted with them. Eventually I stopped even looking at boys. I thought of myself as a non-sexual entity. Just a being making its way through the world. With this perspective, I came more into myself and became excited again. I discovered new passions, new depths of love for my own history and all of its hardships. I started finding the things that make me tick, that make my heart break, that make me afraid. And here is where I have wound up. This past year has been one full of my fears. Most of which I have no choice but to face or I'd just be sabotaging myself.
But here's the kicker. I couldn't, and still can't, face these fears - which pretty much stem from the fear of vulnerability (in relationships, career goals, whatever) - with my own self will. I can't tell you the exact moment that things changed for me. But being in a new relationship, the only one I've ever really been in without running away, is helping me practice being vulnerable. And believe me, I did try to run. It took every ounce of energy I had to keep out of my fight-or-flight mode, which you probably know by now is flight. I would find myself frozen in place asking myself those stupid questions - Did you really convince yourself he likes you? Have you lost your mind? Did you forget you're graduating and moving away? Why do you think he wants anything more than sex? Why would you put yourself in harms way? You really think you're worthy of any attention? You really want to see how badly you can be hurt? Shouldn't you run? Shouldn't you run? Why aren't you running?
My fear of vulnerability really showed itself when sexual intimacy reared it's gorgeous head. Of course I was scared. Sexual intimacy is a show of faith. Of trust. It is being vulnerable with another person. I was so terrified I cried - I quite literally shook with fear. And he was kind to me. He talked to me. He let me talk. I started to reveal myself. He listened to my horror stories of abandonment and neglect and manipulation and disappointment and seeking love where I was never going to get it and being used and cast aside.
And he accepted me. And he told me he wouldn't abandon me. He told me he wanted me to trust him. To feel safe with him. And I did. And I do. And it's strange to be far away from him because with him I am able to practice being vulnerable. And it's so good for me.
And I have no ending to this post. I am practicing being vulnerable just by posting it. It's a piece of me. A piece of my life. And since my life is not ending any time soon, I find it rather appropriate to not have a good ending. So cheers to life. Cheers to loving yourself.
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