Vulnerability is Your Superpower

The summer of 2022 clearly decided we were not going to have some light, easy, sexy fun. Instead, the pandemic hangover decided to land right here, now. You’re going to feel everything. You know that feeling you weren’t even supposed to feel? You’ll feel that too.

Pandemic-induced frustrations didn’t come out during the lockdown, or even right after it ended. It picked this summer for its landing. Exasperation, insecurities, unkindness to others, you name it. And the sun and the sea aren’t making it any better, contrary to what logic might imply. It actually heightens everything that much more.

You feel sad? Feel it. You feel betrayed? Don’t try to outrun it or make sense of it. Stay in that space. Feel it fully. Go through all the motions. It’s your fuel for later. Store it somewhere.

No one’s doing well now. Some people are aware of it, some aren’t. Some people are trying to get through it by feeling it all, and some are ignoring it, thinking they’re fine; all while being cruel to others. They don’t see the difference in their behaviors. They will probably blame you for it.

Embrace it.

Maybe you’ll feel like you want to confide in some people. Tell them you aren’t doing well. Maybe you’ll ask them for advice, or just a kind ear. Many won’t give it to you. Instead, they’ll call you too weak, or sensitive. They’ll call you vulnerable like it’s an insult.

There are so many miserable people this pandemic hangover spat out. They’re going through the motions of life, thinking they have it all figured out. Their life might look stable on the outside (good jobs, husbands, kids, money), but they are chaos on the inside.

No one who is truly happy with themselves would call you out for being sensitive. They are jealous. They have no courage to own their hurt, let alone live it—to tell it.

Ballsy is saying, I feel shit. He hurt me. She fucked me over. I’m suffering. I miss everything about him. She let me down.

I’M HURT.

Taking things personally, being sensitive, vulnerable—that’s not your weakness.

It’s actually your superpower.

How so?

Watch this amazing TED talk on the subject.

Being vulnerable is connecting with another human being. And connection is why we’re here. Vulnerability is a struggle with our worthiness BUT also a birthplace of joy, creativity, belonging, and love. And you can’t selectively numb feelings. When you numb hard feelings and vulnerability; you also numb joy, gratitude, and happiness.

And you do not want to numb those. Or any!

Vulnerability is the key to freedom.

And when you feel vulnerable, you can embrace it, say it, share it, be authentic and real, or you can swallow it inside and blame others.

Do you know what’s the definition of BLAME? “A way to discharge pain and discomfort”.

A WAY TO DISCHARGE PAIN AND DISCOMFORT.

I’m very strong. Sometimes even arrogant, people would tell you. Oftentimes, I’m honest and direct to the discomfort of others. I also hurt. I hurt rarely, but when I do, it’s the Fourth of July fireworks. I’m also a Sagittarius, so you won’t believe it, even when you see it. To most eyes, it looks like I’m playing games.

I’m not playing games to such an extent, that my not playing games — looks like an ultimate game.

Am I weak? Not in a million years. But am I vulnerable? Absolutely. Because I feel things. Because something happened to me and I feel it. And I want to stay in my vulnerability—it’s the birthplace of power BEFORE I fully regain it.

I want to memorize the moment of hurt, who did it, and why it happened. Because by living in it, I’m creating—a certain quality of space.

My vulnerability makes me this person you, now reading this — wonder, how I can guess what you feel right now. I can write about your feelings, even though I have never met you because I feel. Because I’m vulnerable.

I wrote an article in 2017 about Wentworth Miller — ‘Taking it Personally’. You know that guy from Prison Break who has the most beautiful face on Earth, yet somehow managed that to be the least fascinating thing about him?

Wentworth’s musings about mental health on Facebook helped me stay sane when I desperately needed therapy, but couldn’t afford it.

In that article, which is an inspiration for this one (alongside some shitty people that tried to convince me my vulnerability is a flaw I gotta work on); I talk about Wentworth’s quote on being sensitive and vulnerable.

It’s an absolute must-read, my keepsake I keep coming back to, re-reading every time my sanity needs some reassurance:

“I think being sensitive is a good thing. I think Taking It Personally is a good thing. It’s made me the man/actor/writer I am today. I wouldn’t change that for anything. I would say being sensitive is what makes us human. That people who Take It Personally change the world. Get sh-t done. Why? Because we Make It Personal. Whatever “It” is. I would also say that, being sensitive, it serves me to continue to practice being sensitive to others. To practice holding a certain quality of space. To assess, to the best of my abilities, whether what someone says to me, about me, or around me is really about them. Not me. And react accordingly. Sometimes being sensitive looks like knowing when I don’t need to Take It Personally.”

TO PRACTICE HOLDING A CERTAIN QUALITY OF SPACE.

People who never talk about anything that hurt them, who appear well put together and don’t “torture” others with their pain—might not feel hurt, but they don’t feel joy either.

And do you want to be the type of person who doesn’t feel anything, or do you want to be the type of person who feels ALL of it?

Being hurt by the actions of others, whether they’re friends, lovers, partners, or even just fuckboys you were (un)fortunate to come across, don’t let anyone shame you for it. Your vulnerability is a huge part of why they liked you in the first place.

The biggest lie of your life is everyone telling you — you shouldn’t be honest, you shouldn’t say or text what you feel, you shouldn’t show that something touched you, or hurt you; you should instead play games, look unaffected, strong, unfazed. Those people are boring. And weak. They need to keep up their charade, to not otherwise break.

Your vulnerability is freedom. Stripped of all ego. It’s what makes you tactile. Sensible. Sensual. It’s what made people like you in the first place and why he loves that thing you do with your tongue. And why they never forget it.