{Finish the Sentence Friday}
“I wasn’t really myself when I…”
… sat down to write this post. Normally, when I read a Finish the Sentence Friday prompt, I search my brain for a thoughtful response to the question, and my neurological search engine usually returns multiple hits {generally after several minutes, an eternity by Google standards} for posts that integrate parenting, mindfulness, and often, the Buddha. But for several days, this week’s prompt left me with nothing but a glaring, nagging 404 File Not Found every time I entered my mental search terms and attempted to write.
Why the sudden case of writer’s block? Was it because I just wrote a post about self and identity last week? Because the Buddha taught that there is no such thing as the self, so the prompt is technically philosophically inaccurate? Or maybe that’s what the FTSF gods were thinking when they created this prompt, and my metacognitive angst this week was actually part of a blogger conspiracy to throw left-brain, analytical types into existential despair?
{Have I mentioned my issues with overthinking?}
But then it hit me.
Why I was having such a hard time writing this post.
This prompt is really about vulnerability.
A time when I wasn’t myself means a time when I wasn’t being authentic.
A time of uncomfortable cognitive dissonance, when my actions did not match my deepest dreams and hopes about how I want to live and be in the world.
And to share that lack of authenticity… is to be vulnerable.
And vulnerability is HARD.
Vulnerability is being seen.
It is about being true to ourselves.
And that can be scary. Brene Brown, in The Gifts of Imperfection, calls it the audacity of authenticity. Being true to ourselves and admitting weaknesses and faults and the times we “weren’t ourselves” can trigger shame and anxiety. It can bring out mean-spirited comments and hurtful words.
I’ve shared my imperfections with you before. Just last week I wrote an entire post about how I am not a perfect mother. But revealing imperfections, even ones that I’m sure other mothers could relate to, can lead to shaming comments. I’ve had a commenter question my mothering ability because I admitted I yelled at my children at the end of a rough day when my husband was out of town.
I remember hearing as a child, “Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Unfortunately, that’s a bunch of baloney. Words matter. Words are powerful. And our words can wound.
Brene Brown defines vulnerability as “uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.” It is courageous and truthful. It comes from the Latin vulnerare, which means “to wound.” Vulnerability means we’re open to attack. Capable of being hurt.
But, Brown tells us, we have to do it. In fact, in her research on Wholehearted living, she found that “the willingness to be vulnerable emerged as the single clearest value shared” by the Wholehearted. It was what opened them up to courage, compassion, and connection. It led to lives filled with joy and gratitude. Brown shares in her TED Talk that it was this discovery that led to her breakdown spiritual awakening several years ago ~ if she wanted to live fully, she had to embrace vulnerability.
And for all the lip service our culture pays to living authentically and being vulnerable and sharing honestly, we often don’t honor it or praise people for doing it. We may be frightened by the vulnerability of a loved one we depend on. Brown writes in Daring Greatly, “Someone else’s daring provides an uncomfortable mirror that reflects back our own fears about showing up, creating, and letting ourselves be seen.” And we might respond with criticism or cruelty.
Which makes being vulnerable on the world wide web downright terrifying.
Just this week my dear bloggy friend Stephanie shared a humorous post about a disastrous restaurant experience with her six- and one-year-old. And immediately other mothers jumped on her, criticizing her parenting, her presumed lack of expectations for her children, and her apparent disregard for the other diners in the restaurant. These mothers assured everyone that their children would never behave poorly in public. And then other commenters attacked them, accusing them of abuse and worse. And the shaming, the judging, the wounding began.
No wonder it’s hard for us to be brave and authentic, to be truly ourselves, when even the slightest confession of a less-than-perfect moment of parenting brings out comments that wound us in our most tender spot: our role as mothers, and how we care for the little pieces of ourselves that we bring into the world.
In Daring Greatly, Brown asked people to finish a sentence of her own. She asked them to fill in “Vulnerability is…” These are the responses that resonated with me the most, because these are some of the hardest things for me to do:
- saying no ~ I fear saying “No” will mean people won’t like me, or they will think less of me, or they will question my ability to do something.
- asking for forgiveness ~ I really don’t like admitting I’ve been wrong.
- admitting I’m afraid ~ I feel like as a mother and a teacher, I have to act strong. I don’t like to appear weak.
- asking for help ~ I am terrible at this. I don’t like to ask for help. I don’t like to admit I can’t handle something.
So, to finally finish the sentence, I am really not myself when I don’t do these things. When I hide my fears, my ideas, or my needs I am hiding my authentic self. Because sometimes I am wrong, or afraid, or need help.
We don’t have to broadcast all our imperfections to the world {nor should we}, but we can begin by embracing, instead of running from, our own vulnerability, and the imperfections in the people we love.
And how do we do that? Like most things, it starts at home.
Brown writes, “I want our home to be a place where we can be our bravest selves and our most fearful selves. Where we practice difficult conversations and share our shaming moments from school and work. I want to look at [my husband] and my kids and say, ‘I’m with you. In the arena. And when we fail, we’ll fail together, while daring greatly.’ We simply can’t learn to be more vulnerable and courageous on our own. Sometimes our first and greatest dare is asking for support.”
Ask for that support. Support those you love. Support other mothers. We’re all in the arena together.
*****
If you haven’t seen Brene Brown’s TED Talk on The Power of Vulnerability, I strongly encourage you to watch it. It’s amazing.
*****
Today’s post is part of the Finish the Sentence Friday linkup. Click here to read more posts finishing the statement, “I wasn’t really myself when I…”
- A Mindful Approach to New Year’s Resolutions - January 13, 2020
- Just This Next Step - December 16, 2019
- WAIT: A Mindfulness Practice for Waiting in Line - December 9, 2019
