Vulnerability!

[15 min read] Mindy shares her reflection on the beauty and challenge of vulnerability and we extend an invitation to share vulnerably.

This week, Mindy reflects on the power of vulnerability and how uncomfortable it can feel, and I share a feature we are developing to help people share vulnerability called “What’s working for me.”

Enjoy!

—Gonzo

David/Gonzo sent me a Marco Polo this morning (which is something we started doing a few months ago; it can be a nice way to share thoughts while driving or out walking) in which he shared that several people have reached out to him about the piece he wrote in last week’s newsletter. They mentioned how much they enjoyed his thoughts on encouragement and courage but how they especially appreciated learning more about him and his childhood. He told me that upon hearing/reading that, his first reaction was feeling a pull to close down. He even felt a little sick to his stomach.  So he just sat with it and allowed himself to really feel those emotions, the stress and the anxiety.  After a bit, the wave of emotions ebbed, and he came to see that this vulnerability, which was downright unpleasant if we have to label it as something on that spectrum, is what actually connects him with people. And that realization brought its own assortment of feelings on the lovely and beautiful side of the spectrum. “Oh, so I am connecting. And even though it feels unpleasant, that other side felt really really beautiful. I guess this is just what it means to connect. It means we have to be vulnerable.” 

Having written a few blog posts in which I shared vulnerable experiences and feelings, I could very much relate to so much of this. It is curious because writing is such a solitary activity. In fact, I think it’s almost impossible to write collaboratively. So while I sit here at the kitchen table typing this, only I am bearing witness to my thoughts. I’m not even alone right now, as we have a Google Fiber technician here working on something, but he doesn’t have a clue what I’m working on. There is a certain kind of intimacy and privacy in writing, even when you know it is destined to be shared. You have as much safety in that moment of writing as you’ve managed to create in yourself, for yourself. And you can write things that you’d likely only be up for sharing with a close friend, and only when the time is right. It’s only later after people have read your words and come back and told you the effect your words had on them, that you may realize exactly what you’ve done and how brave and vulnerable you really were to put all that out there. (And you might gain a deep understanding of how appropriate the term “vulnerability hangover” is for this experience.) 

So many of us grow up in homes with certain expectations about not only behaviors but also opinions and beliefs. They might be religious, political, racial, or other. So much of our first operating frameworks we just absorb from the people around us. But at some point in time, we start to have some ideas that differ from those of our parents/caregivers. If we don’t feel safe expressing those differences, or if we express them and learn unequivocally that it is NOT safe to express them, we learn to hide. We split ourselves into parts and show the acceptable parts. Over time, we curate ourselves more and more into a version we hope will be acceptable. Ram Dass calls this “somebody training.” (link

But the problem with hiding is that we so desperately want to be known, but we live in fear of people seeing those hidden parts and rejecting us. It takes so much courage to show up. To trust that we may not be for everyone, and that’s actually okay. But we risk never finding our people or feeling real connection if we don’t take the leap and share those aspects of us that lie behind the curtain, to use a Wizard of Oz metaphor. This idea is at the heart of ThisIsReal.Us, and what we hope to bring into the world and to build support for and community around.   

I’ve been listening to David Brooks’s new book, How to Know A Person. It is really good. (So good that I decided to rent the audiobook from the library wasn’t enough, so today I bought the Kindle version and the Audible narration because I know David will want to read it, and I wanted to be able to highlight and refer back to passages in it easily.) He shares an extended passage from Frederick Buechner’s book Telling Secrets:

What we hunger for perhaps more than anything else is to be known in our full humanness, and yet that is often just what we also fear more than anything else. It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are…because otherwise, we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and fully are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find it more acceptable than the real thing. It is important to tell our secrets too because it makes it easier…for other people to tell us a secret or two of their own.

From Telling Secrets as quoted in How to Know a Person

Last week, David wrote about courage and encouragement. For most of us, I think acts of sharing those hidden, tender, wounded parts of us easily are in the Top Five of the most courageous things we will ever do. It can be terrifying. It can be unfathomable to ever consider doing. But the rewards are so great.

Earlier in his book, Brooks recounts some of the latest research statistics on loneliness. Between 1990 and 2020 the percentage of Americans who said they have no close friends quadrupled. “In one survey, 54 percent of Americans reported that no one knows them well…Thirty-six percent of Americans reported that they felt lonely frequently or almost all of the time, including 61 percent of young adults and 51 percent of young mothers.” When I was working with my therapist, my own feelings of loneliness came up as a topic of discussion on several occasions. Here I was, a married mom of five, and I felt so lonely. I had friends, but not the kind that I felt I could really be my full authentic self with. For a time I figured that maybe dealing with loneliness and not feeling understood was something maybe I was supposed to learn to be okay with for some reason in this life. 

But as I have learned more about myself and awakened more to my own need for healing, a funny thing has happened. I have come to see myself as Totally Okay, even with all the messy stuff and flaws. I realized that part of why I felt lonely is that I’d abandoned parts of myself, years ago. I saw what kind of Mindy would be acceptable in the house I grew up in, and that was the Mindy I was determined to be. I had an inner critic who looked at everything and everyone with so much judgment (like a really insane amount). I didn’t have the courage to “tell my secrets” to others because I wasn’t even telling them to myself. The inner critic made sure I kept all of that stuff packed away in boxes, behind locked doors.  I didn’t accept myself, because I knew I had all that stuff. So acceptance from other people didn’t feel genuine, because I knew they didn’t know about the hidden stuff. 

For me, I’ve had to learn how to quiet the Inner Critic. I have had to accept that I am a human, and humans are messy and imperfect, and that honestly, that’s part of what makes us so interesting. I’ve had to give up on the idea of perfection and abandon comparison, and discover the joy and utter beauty of uniqueness, both my own and that of others. One of my favorite ideas from Ram Dass is that of looking at other people the way we look at trees. 

When you go out into the woods and you look at trees, you see all these different trees. And some of them are bent, and some of them are straight, and some of them are evergreens, and some of them are whatever. And you look at the tree and you allow it. You appreciate it. You see why it is the way it is. You sort of understand that it didn’t get enough light, and so it turned that way. And you don’t get all emotional about it. You just allow it. You appreciate the tree.

This week I watched Still: A Michael J. Fox Movie and in it he is reading selections from one of his books, dealing with the dual challenges of Parkinson’s and overwhelming emotions. He reads,

My father had been rushed to the hospital. Dad hadn’t been feeling well for the last month or so. His heart gave out first, then his kidneys began to fail. I couldn’t know that day in 1990 that I was stepping across a threshold.” Fox’s voice catches and he has to pause. “Sorry,” he says, and grunts. “Stuff like that just hits you like a—you’re going through this stuff and you—something like that pops out and you’re so, like—like—like that’s—that’s three sentences and, like, 10,000 pounds of stuff.

Three sentences and 10,000 pounds of stuff. 

This is what it means to be real. It takes courage. We encourage others by sharing our real selves. At another point in the film, reflecting on the years he kept his Parkinson’s diagnosis under wrap, he says “You’re only as sick as your secrets.”

It is such a great honor to be a witness when someone shares their real self with you. And it feels downright magical to share our real selves with others after you get past all of the terror and anxiety of doing it.

—Mindy

NEAT!

Periodically, This Is Real will feature an individual who wishes to share some of their journey. We invite anyone who would like to participate to do that in whatever way they feel most comfortable. We have a few questions to help you reflect on your journey, what you learned along the way, and what’s worked the best to help you find access to joyful vulnerability and improved well-being. 

We understand that some journeys include perspectives, experiences, or circumstances that not everyone feels comfortable sharing publicly. If you want to share, anonymity will give you a safe container to do that, and we celebrate that choice.

Here’s a preview of the questions. None of them are required, and if writing doesn’t feel like the best way for you to capture your thoughts, we will happily set up a call with you!

—Gonzo

A preview of the questions:

Tell us a bit about yourself to help people better understand where you're coming from. Some helpful context might be:

  • Are you or were you ever married or in a long-term relationship?

  • With whom do you share your life (human, canine, feline, or otherwise)?

  • What is your approximate age? e.g., in my 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, etc.

  • Do you have siblings? How many? What's your birth order?

  • Do you have a passionate pursuit that speaks to who you are? e.g., career, service in a community, etc.

  • Do you have any archetypes that resonate with you? e.g., astrological signs, enneagram types, spirit animals, etc.

Introduction to your Personal Journey: Can you share a pivotal moment or experience that sparked your journey toward personal growth and joyful authenticity? Was there a turning point for you?

What's working right now? What are some practices, habits, rituals, or reframing of ideas you've adopted recently that have significantly impacted your personal growth? How did you come across them, and what made you decide to try them?

The Role of External Guidance or Help: Are there any books, podcasts, films, or other forms of media that have significantly influenced or supported your journey toward personal growth and joyful authenticity? Could you share how they impacted you and why you would recommend them to others in our community?

Challenges and Overcoming Obstacles: Can you describe a challenge or setback you faced in your quest for growth? How did you overcome it, and what did you learn from that experience?

The Role of Inspirational Resources: Are there any books, podcasts, films, or other forms of media that have significantly influenced or supported your journey toward personal growth and joyful authenticity? Could you share how they impacted you and why you would recommend them to others in our community?

 Reflecting on your journey: Looking back, what counsel or advice would you give your past self or someone in a similar place as you were starting their journey toward greater joyful authenticity? Are there any misconceptions or pitfalls they should be aware of?

SOMETHING TO TRY

Write every day. 

Many years ago, I was invited to write every day to help me improve my ability to express myself through the written word. It was a challenging invitation because, at the time, I rarely wrote at length, did not keep a journal (though I had a regular practice of logging the events of my day, a diary as it were), and struggled to write clearly.

For a year, I wrote 750 words a day. For several months, I used the service 750words.com. It costs $5/month after a 30-day trial. I also wrote on a manual typewriter for several months. It is a lovely sensory experience. Writing longhand can help some of us feel more open; try that if typing on your computer feels too much like work. For others typing at their computer may feel most comfortable.

If you would like to try this, do it once. If it wasn’t too bad, maybe try a week. And if you enjoy the experience, let me know. We would love to hear what’s working for you!

—Gonzo

PARTING

WORDS

PIC

Sunset on the Provo River Trail

That’s all for this week! If you’re into this, share this newsletter with all your friends. Connecting with new subscribers is magical! 🧚🏻‍♀️

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DISCLAIMER: This newsletter is for educational and informational purposes only and is not intended as a substitute for professional medical advice.