Emboldened by my in-laws’ and husband’s encouragement and
subtle prompting, I have decided it is time to come clean and start blogging
again. The reason behind why I have not been blogging is very simple and it is
something I have been saying to my husband and best friend and sisters for
about the last two years: I am so very tired of being so irretrievably broken. We
social workers sometimes get “compassion fatigue,” meaning we get so tired of
caring about other people that we cannot care about other people. I read about
something called “meaning fatigue,” where someone with a life-threatening
illness gets so tired of considering the greater plan and the shortness of time
that he or she has to take a mental break from assigning meaning to so many
things. So, rather than yelling at those I love that I am tired of being so
broken, I am trying out another, more eloquent term: “vulnerability fatigue.”
According to dictionary.com, the word vulnerable means,
“capable of or susceptible to being wounded or hurt, as by a weapon.” Thus,
vulnerability is one’s ability to be so. I also find another definition to be
especially descriptive of the emotion I am trying to describe: “open to
assault; difficult to defend.” I can practically feel the places in my heart
where I am difficult to defend and open to assault. “Fatigue” is the exhaustion that comes after specific, deliberate, repeated
exertion. Physiologically speaking, it is when organs essentially give out.
Obviously, my ideas about vulnerability are not totally
original. For much more researched and eloquent information about the
importance of vulnerability, you should look up Brene Brown. Honestly, the
extent of my knowledge of her work with vulnerability is the knowledge that she has written
books about its importance and quotes of hers about vulnerability that have
resonated with me. Here is a whole collection of her quotes and I really believe they are absolutely spot on.
So we are in agreement: to achieve true humanity, we have to engage in this act
of being vulnerable, own our capability of being hurt, own that we are
difficult to defend in places and breakable in others. That is great and so
very true. I loved sharing my last blog post and the love I received and not feeling alone
and the relief of just being myself all out in the open.
Now where is the guide to doing that day in and day out; to
authentically being yourself and allowing the gaps in your armor to show; to
“owning your story” and telling it to others in a way that does not sugar coat,
but does not make you some kind of martyr who has found the great wisdom in
your own truth? Better yet, where is the guide for your husband, who has been
taking care of you and considering your own broken heart over and over again since
your mother was diagnosed with cancer three months into your relationship; or
your best friend who has worked a very hard, very stressful job for the last
two years and settled into a new home and gotten engaged and begun to plan a
wedding and listened to you cry or fuss or yell or minimize big feelings
repeatedly, often without you even having the where with all to ask how she is
coping with her own significant life changes; or your sisters who have never
been pregnant and never lost a pregnancy and have no idea what to say except “I
love you,” but the experience hurts so badly you get angry and tell them they
are not being supportive even though there is literally nothing else to say? In
short, where is the guide book for the people around me? And how do I maintain
my composure and dignity in the face of all this very important authenticity
and vulnerability? And at what point is my mere company and the fact that my
life keeps falling apart in some big ways make me just too much for people? These
wonderful people in my life have never said these things to me, but these are
the things that come to my mind over and over at the end of yet another day
when I just cannot hack it and I feel like there are tears in my skin and all
my inside sad thoughts will come spilling out, soaking everything else when,
admittedly, it is kind of exactly what I need and want to happen. In short, how
does one maintain themselves in the face of all this life-giving vulnerability?
I spent Christmas in California with my husband and his
mothers. One morning at breakfast, my mother in law asked me when I would be
blogging again, as though it is a matter of course that I would continue. I
thanked her for the compliment and then made some self-deprecating comment
about my writing, that who needs another white lady blogging out into the
universe? My mother in law pointed out the point of writing is that it might
help someone else, it might contribute to their journey or their understanding,
or that it just might make them feel a little less alone. So, I suppose that
must be why I am looking my vulnerability fatigue in the face and writing a
little bit more. My hope is that, through my vulnerability, maybe you can let a
little bit of your own out. Because it really does make you a more beautiful
person. There is nothing I love more than someone
letting their genuine self out. I hope this is true for you too.
