Vulnerability is for the birds.

I'm in the middle of reading Daring Greatly by Dr. Brene Brown. It was recommended by a friend, and I'm loving it. If we're being technical, I'm not even in the middle of it. I keep reading a section, needing to stop and process, writing, sometimes re-reading, and then continuing on. The book is about the necessity of vulnerability in our lives, and the lack thereof in our culture. Since I'm still reading, I obviously can't give you a comprehensive review of the book, but I can tell you that what it's already doing in my heart is amazing, and here is what I'm working with so far:

1. Vulnerability: adjective

• capable of or susceptible to being wounded or hurt, as by a weapon: a vulnerable part of the body.
• open to moral attack, criticism, temptation, etc.: an argument vulnerable to refutation; He is vulnerable to bribery.
• (of a place) open to assault; difficult to defend: a vulnerable bridge.

Let's start with the very basic. It never occurred to me that being vulnerable is something I struggled with. Reading the definitions listed above, I'm sure it's been quite obvious to everyone around me, but it just never occurred to me. But everything listed above is something I reject.I tend to shy away from vulnerability in the work place, with my family, and with my husband. I hate it. I would rather internalize everything, fix it on my own, and move forward with my life thinking everything is perfect. My vulnerability is so bottled up that, 3 years of marriage later, I still cry through conversations while trying to express my heart to my husband. It's exhausting and a struggle for me. Sounds a little messy, yeah?

2. While I'm reading I've been thinking about the very essential, core group of people in my life and what I love about them. I even listed out the characteristics on paper. One things that they all have in common, that makes them so endearing to me, is that all of them are unashamed of their vulnerability. They own their struggles, they are open about them and encourage others, they ask for help. Do I consider them weak for this? No. I respect it. I always have. I'm drawn to it and wish I could be more like them. So why do I believe the lie that says vulnerability is a weakness? Is something to be ashamed of? Yep. Processing.

3. There isn't an instant fix. Which I hate. I can't turn a button, pin point one thing to change in my character that will magically correct all this. But I also can't hide from it without damaging relationships with those that matter most to me. It's a little bit like a slap in the face, if I'm being honest. But the book is good, and one chapter in I'm crying and searching for therapists online because I'm convinced I'm the only person in the world dealing with this, and that Brene must have been given a vision from God to write this just for me. The drama in my life is unbearable, I know.

4. Something I'm still grasping with is this concept that another concept tied to all of this is Pride. It's okay for someone else to be vulnerable, and that I respect and love them for it, but it's not okay for me. I have to be perfect. Does this mean I think I'm better than them, and have to live to a higher standard? That's not what is in my heart, but that doesn't matter if it is interpreted as pride.

I've learned that it's much easier for me to process all this vulnerability chatter if I'm writing at the same time. When I hit a particularly tough section in the book that strikes my heart, I take a minute to write down what and why it's affecting me, and then I can continue to read. I think I might have a whole journal on vulnerability by the time I'm done with this book.

So far everything I've touched on has been the extreme surface of vulnerability. I'm still on the shallow end of the pool. What are your thoughts? Is the art of being vulnerable something you struggle with?