Being Vulnerable

Vulnerability is a funny thing (not only just a funny word that I can barely pronounce).

Since a little girl, I have perceived being vulnerable as being emotional, weak, or lame.

I had a big brother (and gratefully still do) who my goal was to cream in any competition. I can hear my Momma now, "Anne and Worth, not everything has to be a competition," as my Daddy sat there and secretly grinned. Daddy, the Coach, never let me win any board games. You had to earn it.

In 9th grade, I started on the varsity soccer team. I remember it vividly, when my coach shared with my parents that I was unlike any other adolescent player on the team. Then, he made a straight line with his hand and said "Anni's expression of emotions are never high or never low, she's even-keeled."

Recently, Worth reminded me of a memory. His girlfriend's friend said this about me (paraphrased). GF's friend: "Is your sister, Anni? and she played field hockey?" Worth :"Ya, that's her. She was pretty good. You may remember her." GF's friend: "Pretty good, she freaked us out when she took a ball to the head in warm-ups, got stitches, and then played the game."

I used to show no vulnerability. I am learning to be vulnerable. The word is not a scarlet letter.

The problem comes (psych major alert) that when one feels vulnerable the sense arises to protect or defend one's self. This is true for me.

Through a friendly arsenal of explaining, rationalizing, counterattacking, or justifying I attempt to wash away the vulnerability. But, my weapon of choice is redirecting.

We are all vulnerable. Thus, there are 2 facets. My own. And, yours.

I have to decide whether to accept or expose my vulnerability in many different domains of my life-work, family, friends, romantic, athletic, etc.

On the vulnerability spectrum, I'm at neither end. No longer am I holding on for dear life at the end of Miss Not Vulnerable. But, I am definitely no practicing my arm, arm, wrist, wrist hand wave as Miss Vulnerable (nor do I plan to ever be there).

Like all things, I'm seeking balance as I navigate life.

I know that by sharing who I am, what I feel, my missteps, my feats that I am being real. I believe by sharing the real me, I gain so much through the circles of people I move.

Here's 2 words I never would have thought to read in a sentence (slightly wants to make me barf, told you I'm working on the balance). Anne Richardson is vulnerable.

Moral of the Story: I find that the more vulnerable I allow myself to be, the stronger I become.